


Spoiled Rotten

by bukkunkun



Series: Spades [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cardverse, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Marriage of Convenience, Nobility, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cardverse!AU."Well, hello, Captain Arthur Kirkland. I see you're as beautiful as they all say, missing eye and leg and all." Alfred reminisces on how he met his lovely wife. USUK, Sequel to Scars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Young King Alfred

**Author's Note:**

> Moved here from LJ/FF.net.

 

Alfred looked down at his Queen sleeping peacefully in his embrace, their naked bodies intertwined under the cerulean silk of their blanket of their king-sized bed they had shared only as a place of sleep… until tonight.

 

A smile on his face, Alfred twirled a lock of Arthur’s soft hair around his finger, wistfully looking at it with a passive look on his handsome face. Darkened blue eyes traced along the lines of moonlight accenting his wife’s pale face— _coloured beautiful cerise not too long ago_ , he thought to himself, feeling self-proud—giving him an ethereal glow, making his peaceful doll-like face all the more beautiful than before. A content sigh escaped Alfred’s lips as his finger stopped toying with his Queen’s hair to run down the side of Arthur’s face, the war-calloused digit sliding along Arthur’s porcelain skin with ease, like how his fingers slid through the smooth silk he and his wife were currently lying on. They stopped at Arthur’s lips, _beautifully moist and cherry-red from bruising kisses, moaning out his name as he spilled his load, hot, passionate and sticky just moments ago_ , Alfred chuckled slightly at his wild mind, before running his fingers across the smooth, petal-soft lips, relishing the memory of feeling them on his own. Gently he lifted his fingers away from his wife and replaced them with his own, brushing his lips lightly on Arthur’s.

 

Arthur groaned softly, and brilliant green eyes, glowing beautifully in the moonlight, slid open half-mast, still riddled with sleep. “…’Fred…?” he muttered, blinking slowly, lifting his head to look at his husband. “What is the matter, love?”

 

“Nothing is.” Alfred smiled at Arthur, “Absolutely nothing.” He replied, kissing Arthur’s forehead softly. “You okay? Do your hips hurt?”

 

“They do hurt like hell, thank you very bloody much.” Arthur grinned dryly, waking up fully, before leaning up to kiss Alfred. “Not surprisingly. You took as much as I could offer.”

 

“What else can you expect from a conqueror?” Alfred smirked, kissing Arthur back, snaking his arms around his wife gently, before pulling him closer—and the smaller blonde winced. “O-oh, sorry, babe.” He apologized, “Man, it really hurt, huh?”

 

“Of course! With you going at it at full strength, how could it not hurt?” Arthur snapped at him, a blush lighting his cheeks that was visible only where the moonlight hit his cheeks. “I-it was my first time and everything, even…” his voice dropped into a low mumble and Alfred laughed good-naturedly, stroking his wife’s hair, admiring how his wedding band—the only article of clothing (if one can call a ring that) left on both of their bodies—shone in the moonlight streaming in from the window.

 

“I’ll be careful next time.” Alfred promised, “But then again, you know me. My control over my decision making is, um, what’s that word?” he asked that knowing Arthur loved flaunting the fact he was of more tact than the young King.

 

“Absolutely atrocious.” Arthur finished off his sentence, and in the dark, Alfred could see a ghost of a smile on Arthur’s face. “You’re such a spoiled brat.”

 

“And you love me for it.” Alfred laughed, “Admit it, if I wasn’t, you wouldn’t be sharing this bed with my wonderful body, right?”

 

“Oh, shut it. It was either you or the Sea King.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “I don’t think getting married to an aggregation of saltwater that needed sacrifices for a solid form just to touch me is a good idea, don’t you think, poppet?”

 

“Oh, you’re so freaking feisty.” Alfred grinned in a feral manner. “That’s what makes you so sexy… but then, I liked the shy blushy you too.”

 

“A-Alfred!” Arthur flushed bright red, and the taller blonde laughed, kissing his wife all over his face. “S-stop that! Y-you idiot!”

 

“Yes, dear.” Alfred chuckled, shuffling even closer to his beloved. “Come on, let’s get to sleep. It’s going to be your fault if I fall asleep at the throne tomorrow.”

 

“Wh-what?!” Arthur spluttered, “Y-you were the one going as fast as you could!”

 

“Ah, but I wasn’t the one screaming ‘ _Faster! Faster!_ ’ was I?” Alfred smirked and winked at Arthur, and his Queen’s face, if even possible, got even redder.

 

“Oh, bollocks.” Arthur swore, before turning around and wriggling out of Alfred’s arms—wincing as he did so—huffing angrily. “Come on, sleep. Or Yao will have both of our heads.”

 

Alfred chuckled behind a hand, before shuffling up to behind his Queen, smiling.

 

\---

 

Ah, yes. He remembered perfectly how he had met his beloved Arthur—in the most unromantic of all the places he could have met his Queen—the dark, damp brig of the _Britannia_ , the most feared pirate ship in all the seas of Fantasia, Alfred on his knees, one of his inventions (a long metal barrelled weapon with a varnished wooden finish and armrest that could fire small metal projectiles much faster and more powerfully than arrows; they could pierce most types of armour, and it was the only one in Fantasia. Welded onto the end was a blade meant for close-range combat. Alfred had called it the musket) pointed at Arthur’s face, and Arthur’s rapier Commodore pointed at his, emerald-studded blade and all.

 

A cocky smile spread across his youthful face as he cocked his trusty musket. Alfred could hear the tiny metal balls click into place, and carefully, his finger brushed against the trigger of his musket.

 

“Well, hello, Captain Arthur Kirkland. I see you’re as beautiful as they all say, missing eye and leg and all.”

 

\---

 

Not very long ago, a young boy was suddenly crowned king of the once-small Kingdom of Spades. A famine had hit the still-developing kingdom, along with the ever-present threat of invasion from the Kingdom of Clubs from their west. The King, the boy’s father, had died fighting off the Clubs forces, whilst his mother, the Queen, died of a broken heart and of fatigue from trying to resolve their failing Kingdom’s never-ending problems. The crown barely even fitted the boy’s head when he was crowned, and suddenly the Kingdom was ruled by a mere 15-year-old.

 

Little Alfred had started off as a sheltered child, he was pure and innocent like a sheltered dove, his beautiful cerulean eyes glimmering clear and wide, coupled with his beautiful smile that emanated innocence. His parents loved him dearly, and showered him with whatever he wanted.

 

He grew up spoiled, having and taking anything he wanted, and soon the innocent little angel grew into a selfish young man who took everything he wanted, no matter what. Then, he suddenly was thrust into the world of adults, and his innocence shattered, the sweet little boy no more.

 

The moment he was seated onto the throne, the intoxicating taste of power passed through his young lips, and, young and reckless, young King Alfred found himself addicted, and the tiny of trickle of power his tiny Kingdom could provide him suddenly was not enough. Greatness shining through him, effortlessly, he pulled his Kingdom from famine and caused it to prosper with the use of his bright mind and his knack for inventing. Soon the tiny Kingdom of Spades grew into the nation of innovation, technology and mass production. The trickle of sweet power became a thin stream of the sinfully-sweet nectar. King Alfred wanted more, and he knew exactly how.

 

He would achieve full domination of Fantasia, from the Northern Forests just beyond his Kingdom, to the Southern Braided Rivers where the first Kingdom, Hearts, stood at the South of Fantasia. The glimmering Eastern Seas of the sunny Kingdom of Diamonds and the Western Mountains of the ever-snowing Kingdom of Clubs would soon become his as well, he swore to himself as he abandoned all of young thinking, tossing aside childish beliefs in magic, happy endings and heroes, and instead, only conquest overtook the young man’s mind.

 

With strength and exceptional military tactics, aided by his inventions, the young ruler conquered the frontlines of the battlefield, ruthless and cunning, defeating enemy troops left and right until the once-nomadic peoples of the Northern Forest were under his command, exponentially increasing the size of the once-tiny Kingdom of Spades.

 

He was a conqueror, but not a fool. Knowing perfectly an iron-fisted rule would only result in revolt, he treated his newly-acclaimed territory like his own home, Spades. He became a just ruler, who was dearly loved by his people, and soon, his large kingdom was evolving into an empire, as King Alfred’s forces began to slowly trickle into Clubs and Diamonds territory.

 

He was a king who could get whatever he wanted, and albeit being a gentle ruler, he was a very selfish young man. If he wanted something, he would _get it_. No matter whom it used to belong to.

 

\---

 

“Your Majesty,” Yao, Alfred’s Jack, sighed to the young ruler as he absentmindedly toyed with a chess piece, the Queen, as he sat at a small crystal garden table, a blue and white-chequered chess board laid out on it, the pieces made of glass-clear diamonds and sapphires. His ‘opponent’ was a tattered teddy bear he used to carry around with him when he was younger, a lopsided, slightly tattered white velvet ribbon around its neck and a small top hat that was slightly slanted rested on its head, right next to its left ear. “May I speak casually?”

 

The spring sun shone down on them gently through the trees at where they were, sitting at the open glass double-doors in Alfred’s private study, where the young King was currently taking a break from his duties as King. The doors led to a private corner of the royal rose gardens, shaded by a great oak tree, where Alfred would spend peaceful afternoon tea times.

 

“Sure, go right ahead.” The young man waved at him dismissively, twirling the sapphire figurine of the Queen between his fingers as he slumped backwards into the pillow-littered armchair he was sitting in. “What is it?”

 

“Alfred, I’ve been taking care of you since you were a baby,” Yao suddenly said, picking up the teddy bear from its seat across Alfred—and earning himself a glare from the young King, the teen’s brilliant sky blue eyes darkening into a shade of dark navy, the strawberry blonde’s fingers abruptly tightening around the chess piece he had juggled between his fingers. The elder man sighed and put the bear back exactly as it was, before pulling a chair for him to sit on at Alfred’s right. “I apologize for that,” he said quickly, “Anyway, on to what I was going to say—you are becoming of age, my dear boy.”

 

“I’m already of age, Yao.” Alfred replied, his tone marking the end of their conversation.

 

The black-haired man shook his head. “You do not understand. When you reach twenty, you will inherit the proper Kingship.” Yao said, and Alfred waved at him.

 

“I already know that,” he said, frowning, “What else is new?”

 

“Upon receiving the Mark of the King, your powers will increase, right?” Yao said, and Alfred merely nodded at him. “That is because of the work of the spirits.” At this, Alfred scoffed, and muttered something about not believing in such silly things, but that was the culture of the land he grew up in, “And because of this, your timer will begin.”

 

There, Alfred began paying attention. “Timer? What are you talking about, Yao?” he asked, sitting up properly, eyes fixed on his guardian from childhood.

 

“It is the countdown of the decay of the strength given to you by the spirits, my dear boy.” Yao said, looking at his charge through the bifocals Alfred had invented for him (he had started working on it immediately on the night the elder man had complained about his eyesight back then when Alfred was the sweet little boy that Yao dearly loved like his own son). “The moment they are given to you, they almost immediately decay.”

 

Alfred stuck his tongue out at his guardian. “That sucks. There must be a catch.”

 

“In fact, there is.” Yao nodded. “When you are properly crowned on you’re your twentieth birthday, you also receive the Mark.”

 

“Oh, what an awesome birthday present: a gigantic empire, a shiny crown, a tattoo on my neck and deteriorating powers.” Alfred dryly said, and Yao sighed.

 

“There’s also the requirement that you are to have a Queen when you are being crowned. The wedding comes before that, you know.”

 

“Screw getting a wife. I’ll get one later.” Yao frowned at Alfred’s tone. “Tell me what to do about that stupid timer I’m supposed to beat.”

 

“‘ _A King cannot be without his Queen._ ’” Yao recited in the Ancient tongue, the language the spirits spoke in. Alfred didn’t know how to speak the language, but he knew what that phrase meant, it was inscribed in neat, tiny fairy language, onto the crowns of all the Kings of Fantasia, encircling the Kingdom’s crown jewel, coloured in the national colours of the kingdoms, a ruby heart for Hearts, an emerald clover for Clubs, a topaz diamond for Diamonds, and for Spades, a sapphire spade. “Do you actually understand what that means, Alfred?”

 

“A King cannot be without his Queen.” Alfred replied dismissively. “You’ve already told me that long ago.”

 

“No, what I meant was the meaning behind those words.” Yao said, shaking his head. “There lies the answer to your predicament, my dear boy.”

 

“… Are you saying I need to have a Queen so my powers don’t degenerate?” Alfred breathed, flabbergasted. “That’s absurd! Who the heck thought of that stupid rule?!”

 

“The spirits did, Alfred.” Yao chuckled behind a long sleeve. “Well, if you want that power, I suggest you better start looking for a wife.”

 

“Ugh, but all the ladies-in-waiting in court are so damn boring.” The teen whined, and Yao allowed himself a small smile. This was one of the rare times when Alfred would act young again, the child he had locked away for so long peeking out, even for just a moment. “There must be _someone_ out there who’s strong and good at fighting, and…” Alfred looked at Yao. “It doesn’t have to be a girl, right?”

 

“Well, the title of the Queen of Spades is but a title.” Yao smiled knowingly. “Besides, with the spirits’ blessing, I’m very sure you would still have an heir to the throne.”

 

“Hmm,” Alfred hummed, tapping his chin in thought. “I could look for a warrior or maybe a knight… a strong guy with a smart head on his shoulders.”

 

“Don’t forget, you two will be sharing a bed, you know.” Yao chuckled, and Alfred paled.

 

“Not cool.” He shook his head, and Yao couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey, this isn’t funny!” he pouted, and the elder man patted the blonde’s head.

 

“Yes, I know. I just cannot help myself.”

 

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and the two immediately turned their attention to it. “Come in,” Yao called, and the door opened to reveal a servant holding up a gloved hand, where a large bald eagle rested. In his other hand was a letter. Alfred smiled upon seeing the eagle and stood up.

 

“Liberty,” he smiled, as the servant bowed. The large eagle flew from the servant’s hand and landed on the young King’s shoulder. The strawberry blonde-haired man smiled and petted his beloved bird.

 

“Your Majesty, Your Grace,” he nodded at the two of them. “A message has come from the navy.”

 

“Let me see it.” Yao told him, and he approached them, handing Yao the letter. The man quickly scanned it, as the servant excused himself from the room.

 

“What’s it about, Yao?” Alfred asked, walking up behind him to read the letter over his shoulder. A smile spread across the elder man’s face and he turned to face Alfred. “What are you smiling about?”

 

“Our ships are being attacked by pirates.” Yao smiled, and Alfred shot him a worried look.

 

“Um, I don’t think that’s great news, Yao…”

 

“It’s wonderful.” Yao replied, with a sure tone. “They’re being attacked by the most feared pirate in all the seas of Fantasia, Alfred.”

 

“That’s not… wait.” Alfred’s eyes widened.

 

Yao’s grin widened. “His name is Arthur Kirkland. He’s a fierce beast with the sword and arrows, takes no prisoners, and is born loved by the spirits. A storm always hits his targets right before he attacks, and rumour has it he has some control over the feared Kraken.” The look on Alfred’s face made Yao even more elated. “Do you know what that means?”

 

“… If I have him as my Queen… I have all the seas in Fantasia under my control.” Alfred’s surprise melted away and he grinned, the conqueror in him taking over. “Spades will expand successfully even into the Diamonds across the sea.”

 

“Exactly!” Yao cheered, “And you, finally, would have a Queen! It’s a win-win situation!” the man smiled brightly, clapping Alfred on the shoulder.

 

Alfred smirked. “This shouldn’t be too hard.” He cockily snorted, “I’ve always been very popular with the ladies in court.”

 

Yao chuckled. “Ah, but Arthur Kirkland is a force to be reckoned with. Wild as the raging sea and as feisty as an unbroken horse. This will prove to be a challenge, yes?”

 

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Alfred smirked. “In fact, since you said that, I’m even more pumped to make him my Queen.” The blonde started heading to the door, Liberty flying after him.

 

“Oh, and another thing.” Yao called after him, “People have said that Arthur Kirkland is very beautiful, so beautiful it has been said he even seduced the Sea King.”

 

“Oh?” Alfred smirked and turned to face him. “Looks like a flower but stings like a bee? I like that.” With a mock salute at Yao, he exited the study, Liberty close by.

 

Smiling wistfully, Yao sat back down in his chair and sighed. “I pray for your luck, dear Alfred,” he looked at the queen chess piece Alfred had been toying with earlier. “You have to win his heart, for the stars are telling me he is to be your intended ever since you have been born.”


	2. Storm After the Calm

“Your Majesty, are you sure you’ll be alright?” the young cabin boy asked uneasily, as he cautiously watched the ruler of his home kingdom board their ship. “I-I mean, we might get ambushed by that pirate Kirkland, sir…”

 

“I’ll be fine.” The man told him, patting his musket he slung over his shoulder by a strap, “I know how to fight.”

 

“A-alright, Your Majesty.” The boy nodded, and quickly he scampered away into the ship’s brig, just as the captain exited his quarters.

 

“Your Majesty, your quarters are ready, right next to mine.” the elder man bowed to Alfred, “George Jackson, naval captain, at your service, sire.”

 

“Thanks.” Alfred nodded at him, and the man straightened up, eyeing the crew hustling about, getting the ship ready to set sail out of the corner of his eye.

 

“The ship is about to set sail, would you like to stay outside to see, Your Majesty?”

 

“Sure,” Alfred nodded, “Oh, and you’re the captain of this ship. I’m just your passenger. Call me Alfred.” The teen smiled up at him, and the man blinked at the kindness of his King, but nodded.

 

“Understood, Alfred.” He said, slightly awkward, and the blonde laughed lightly behind his hand. “Well, I shall see to our operations. You may watch from behind the helm.”

 

“Yes, captain.” Alfred smiled, before heading up the stairs, his musket bouncing on his back like how his steps had a similar bounce.

 

\---

 

In the days that followed, he was getting giddy to see this Captain Kirkland. Spending time with the crew every night during dinner (the cook regularly apologized to him for the ‘unrefined’ food he could offer, since they were on a normal civilian ship, so Alfred had to constantly tell him it was alright, he had lived on the frontlines of war before, where even slightly fishy-tasting gruel being served was much better than what he had to ingest during his conquest wars), he heard stories of how the captain would supposedly call on the spirits of the sea and send storms to weaken his target ships, and when the storms have passed, he would strike, and ruthlessly, he would pillage everything the ships had on them, and then his men would kill all the people on board—except for the captain. Rumour has it the pirate would take him to his private quarters—but the following day, the captain would be dead, and his body would be thrown off the ship. No one knew what Captain Kirkland did to those captains, but surely their deaths would have been slow and painful, at the hands of the most beautiful man on the seas of Fantasia.

 

“In hindsight,” Alfred said to the captain of the cargo transport ship he had travelled with as they shared a bottle of rum one evening, “It wouldn’t be so bad if you had to be killed by someone as insanely beautiful as Arthur Kirkland.” Jackson looked at him, amused, and nodded.

 

“Why so, Alfred?”

 

The strawberry blonde-haired teen shrugged, “Just a thought. I have a question; this ship isn’t filled to its maximum capacity, is it?”

 

“It isn’t. Why do you ask that?”

 

“Well, I was planning to be captured by this Captain Kirkland.” Alfred said. The man sitting across him opened his mouth to protest, his eyes wide, but the younger man lifted his hand to gently silence him. “I am in need of a Queen, and I have chosen to take Arthur as my own.” He fell silent for a moment, “… And, well, I am apologising in advance for my selfishness.”

 

“You are our King, Alfred,” Jackson smiled. “Your intentions are our intentions. What plan do you have in mind, sire?”

 

Alfred smiled at him slightly bashfully, feeling rather ashamed of stripping the man of his precious ship (he then later made a mental note to have a new ship made for Jackson, fitted with new weaponry, and even stocked with muskets as a replacement for the ship he was going to sacrifice. “Captain Jackson should be happy!” Alfred had smiled to himself, “He will have the only ship that will have muskets!”), and nodded. “If we are hit with the characteristic storm that forewarns of Captain Kirkland’s ambush, after the storm settles, I want you and the rest of the crew to take the dinghies—leave one behind, stock them with a few supplies, and row to land. When you reach land, send a message to my Jack and tell him I have been captured by Kirkland. He’ll know what to do after that.”

 

“… Understood. I _knew_ you asking to join us had some meaning behind it. But, Alfred, you _know_ Captain Kirkland takes no prisoners, what if… he kills you?”

 

“He won’t.” Alfred smirked. “He can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“He’s a pirate, and he needs the kingdoms in perfect balance. If he kills me, then the kingdoms’ delicate power balance will be disrupted and war will break out.” Alfred smirked. “You know how large the Kingdom of Spades has become. I’m confident that with Yao at their head, our army can put up a good fight. The other Kingdoms aren’t going down without a fight either.  If that happens, then Kirkland would have no ships to ambush, and worse, he may even get caught in the crossfire.” Jackson raised an eyebrow and smirked.

 

“My, you really are a bright young man.” He nodded approvingly. “Even already thinking this out through… Impressive.”

 

“Thank you for your flattery.” Alfred chuckled, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

 

“This may sound a little sceptic, please forgive me, but do you think he could love you back?” Jackson asked, “I mean, you two _are_ getting married and everything.”

 

Alfred scoffed and waved dismissively. “Who ever said anything about love? I just need a Queen, Captain Jackson.” He chuckled, “If I want him back in my castle and in my bed, however, I’m going to have to woo him. I’ll have him fall so hard for me he’ll be _begging_ me to take him off his ship.”

 

Jackson smirked into the rim of his mug as he brought it to his lips. “What brave words, Your Majesty.”

 

Alfred smirked and took a swig of his rum.

 

“Of course. If I didn’t have the balls like this, there wouldn’t even _be_ a Kingdom of Spades.”

 

\---

 

The following night, much to Alfred’s delight, the ship was suddenly caught in a wild storm, and, rushing along the deck to help the crewmen (ignoring their cries of, “Your Majesty! Please go back inside! It’s dangerous!”) keep the boat upright, he laughed loudly, anticipation bubbling in his chest. This was it, he felt in his gut, his blue eyes twinkling with impatient childish glee, after the storm came the cloud with silver lining, named Arthur Kirkland.

 

Not totally sure on what he should be doing (he rarely went on voyages, he never had a liking to the seas; Alfred preferred the sky, where it was wide, spacious and free) Alfred scampered around the deck, following the example the cabin boys set, helping crewmen pull on ropes and holding up loose cargo boxes sliding along the length of the deck as the boat tipped dangerously in all directions. The shifting ground made Alfred’s head spin and threw his centre of gravity off, but holding tightly—almost drunkenly—to ropes the other crewmen were tugging on to keep the ship stable, he managed to prevent himself from toppling over.

 

This was far from what he was experienced in the battlefield—it didn’t rain this badly back in Spades, and the ground _certainly_ did not tip and sink as rapidly as the boat was doing now. Slight panic slowly seeped into his thoughts, but he was far too concerned with trying not to feel like a drunkard who had too much to drink at a party. Summoning all of his willpower, he forced himself to stay latched on the rope he was holding on. He wasn’t sure anymore what rope he was holding, his slightly blurred vision suddenly worsening due to all the water that got into his eyes.

 

Jackson suddenly snapped him out of his trance as the man roughly grabbed the strawberry blonde’s shoulder, pulling him away from the rope, sagging with saturation, he was holding onto, the twined object falling out of his hands and beating wildly against the floor. The old captain slammed his foot on it, and with the winds howling around them, he leaned closer to Alfred’s ear.

 

“Alfred! Secure the main sail! No time to dilly-dally!” he shouted in the young monarch’s ear over the roar of the waves. “Use the life-line on the mast! These boys can take it here!”

 

Alfred smirked. It had been _ages_ since he had been ordered so brusquely, and needless to say, he liked the feeling.

 

“Aye, Captain!” he grinned at the elder man brightly, before scrambling to get to the mast, stumbling over nothing in excitement, his shoes slipping every once in a while over the wet varnished deck. His clothes and hair were saturated with water, weighing him down. The hair on his fringe stuck to his brow, obscuring his already slightly blurry vision, and Alfred lost his footing a metre away from the mast and fell forward on it. He raised his arms to catch himself on the mast, but because of the sheer strength of the wind he was pushed forward and his face slammed into the wooden mast. Momentarily Alfred saw stars behind his eyelids, and behind him he heard Jackson bellowing at him.

 

“Get those feet up and moving, Alfred! Get that pretty face of yours off my mast and pull that rope!” the man’s rough voice spurred him to get moving, and dazed, he pulled himself off the wooden pole and his numbing hands, shivering slightly due to the cold now running all through his soaked body, groped around for the rope he needed to pull. His fingers clasped around it, and blindly, he pulled at it, and somehow the ship’s wild left-and-right rocking subsided. Putting all of his strength in it, Alfred pulled it down with his weight, pulling it until he was lying down on the deck, and the ship stabilized a bit more.

 

Suddenly the rope was pulled from his hands, and Alfred saw Jackson’s silhouette tying the rope to the mast, before leaning down towards him and pulling him up to his feet, pulling him flush against the mast, before handing him another rope.

 

“You did well, Your Majesty. Now, hold on.” Jackson chuckled into his ear, before suddenly leaving, the rain pouring down on Alfred suddenly full-force, making the young King close his eyes tightly shut. Quickly, he wound the rope around his forearm, and held on to it as tightly as he could as the wind and rain beat at him, slamming him against the mast, the deck and pulling him around. At the back of his mind, Alfred silently sighed in relief at the fact he had left his musket in his quarters, or it would be rendered useless—the gunpowder would get wet if it was out here.

 

They rode out the storm, lasting three hours, and when it had subsided, Alfred slumped down onto the deck, tired to his bones, sopping wet, with the rope (he later realized that it was the lifeline Jackson was talking about) coiled around him like a snake, most of it frighteningly around his neck, but at this point, the young King was too tired to even care. Lazily, he opened his eyes, looking up at the cleared night sky, the full moon shining down on him like the sun. Light rain drizzled onto him, gentle like the petals of the Diamonds’ national flower (they bloom in the summer in multitudes like yellow grass. Their petals easily come off in the breeze, and so fields of these wonderful flowers paint the wind yellow during the summer; Alfred had only seen them once, visiting the Kingdom of Diamonds briefly, and he had absolutely loved them), washing away his tension. The blonde relaxed, and slid down lower, the rope around him uncoiling as he did so, to lie down onto the deck, his eyes sliding shut. He didn’t care if he was lying down on the deck; now, he just wanted to sleep.

 

“You still alive there?” Jackson chuckled from above him, and he opened one eye to see the elder man, sopping wet as he was, holding two steaming mugs. “You might need this, Your Majesty.” He offered the mug to Alfred, and the blonde took it gratefully, downing half of it, feeling the warm wine go down his throat. He shivered in delight as he felt the heat from the drink seeped into his body as it went down, and a smile spread across his face.

 

“That was awesome.” He grinned up at the elder man standing above him, sitting up. “I got to admit, this was rougher than the battlefield.”

 

“Yet that’s the beauty of life on the sea,” Jackson smiled. “To enjoy life roughly, without the guilt of spilling blood on your hands.” He looked down at Alfred, who now had a pensive look on his face. The elder man sighed fondly and reached for a towel one of the crew had handed him. He tossed it over the young King’s shoulders.

 

“Warm yourself up and get dried, Alfred.” He said. “The crew and I are to leave soon.”

 

“R-right,” Alfred nodded, standing up, hugging the tattered towel close to his body. “I’ll go get dressed, and then I’ll see you off.”

 

“We shall begin unloading supplies to the dinghies.” Jackson nodded, before Alfred turned and headed towards his quarters.

 

\---

 

Tugging on the sapphire-blue ribbon he had flung around his neck, Alfred stepped out onto the now-dried deck (he had always admired the determination of the two cabin boys, but to have the deck dry in the time it took for him to get dressed… amazing.) to see Jackson waving at his men to gather in front of the young King. A smile spread across Alfred’s face as the captain and his small crew faced their king as Jackson handed him one of the oil lamps he was carrying.

 

“It was a pleasure to be of help to your search for your Queen, Your Majesty.” Jackson said, holding his freed hand out for Alfred to shake. “We shall pray for your success, my King, and may the spirits be in your favour.”

 

“It was great being here.” Alfred smiled at him, shaking his hand as he took the oil lamp. “And thanks for yelling orders at me during the storm. You don’t know how long I have been going on without someone barking orders at me.”

 

“You’re welcome, Alfred.” The captain chuckled, before bowing, and the rest of the crew followed suit. “You were a pleasant passenger, a great member of my crew,” he chuckled slightly, and straightened up. “And you were a hilarious drunk.” Alfred blushed lightly, and Jackson gestured for his men to get ready to leave.

 

“We now take our leave, Your Majesty.” Jackson smiled at him as the crew boarded the dinghies already on the water’s surface. “Bag that Kirkland fellow and do us all a favour.”

 

Alfred laughed good-naturedly and nodded, waving them goodbye as the crew undid the ropes tied to the dinghies. “I’ll make sure of it! I’ll see you at home!” he leaned over the railing, putting the oil lamp on it next to him. He stayed a little away from it to keep it from falling over.

 

Jackson raised his hand as a goodbye, as the dinghies started floating away.

 

“Oh, and another thing!” Alfred yelled after them. “When I get home, you all are invited to the wedding! And Jackson! I’ll get you a new ship! You better wait for it!”

 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Your Majesty!” the man called back at him, and Alfred’s smile grew.

 

He felt great. It had been far too long since he had smiled this wide.

 

He stayed at the starboard railing, smiling, as he watched the dinghies float away until the lights they carried with them disappeared in the dark horizon.

 

When they were gone, Alfred sighed, lifting the oil lamp from were it sat next to him, and he looked into the flame inside, his blue eyes dyed with a soft yellow hue. He opened the window to the flame and gently, he blew it out, plunging his world into darkness, the moon now his only source of light.

 

He reached into the darkness next to the door of the brig to pick up his musket (he had brought it out before he got changed) and a small satchel that had food and water, and silently, he sat amongst the crates that had a few Spades products in them, completely hidden in the shadows between them.

 

“And now,” he said softly to himself, “I wait.”


	3. Enter Captain Kirkland

Golden rays had begun dyeing the sky orange when Alfred heard uneven footsteps on the deck. His blue eyes half-mast just a moment ago from sleepiness slid wide open and the young monarch pressed himself close to the boxes of cargo he was hiding in. He peered out to beyond the boxes he had squeezed himself between (he had another crate stacked above him, so he had a pseudo-cave to hide in) and he saw a red high-heeled boot with criss-crossed laces that went up higher than what Alfred could see. Soon, more footsteps followed, and Alfred realized that the person had a crew with him.

 

“No one on board?” a voice asked, unfamiliar to Alfred, but it sounded beautiful. It had an elegant accent (Alfred placed the accent as somewhere from near the Spades-Clubs border, around the England region), and had a touch of class, yet still sharp and authoritative.

 

“Not a soul, Captain.” Another voice replied, also having an accent, but it wasn’t as spectacular as the one who spoke first. “Seems they ran away as fast as they could when they put two and two together.”

 

The beautiful voice laughed, an exquisite sound to Alfred’s ears, and the blonde found himself smiling slightly at the beautiful sound. “Finally. Some fools who actually believe the storm story. Crew!”

 

Alfred suddenly realized who he was listening to: the feared pirate king, Captain Arthur Kirkland. The gears in his mind started to turn, and without making a sound, he began to move through the maze he made with the cargo boxes.

 

\---

 

Arthur, albeit smiling (quite smugly, he might say,), was thoroughly displeased. The fact there was not a single person on board the ship he had attacked could only mean that he couldn’t present some sacrifice to the Sea King—a mistake he had made before, costing him his leg from the knee down, where now a peg leg was in stead of his right foot.

 

He climbed up wooden steps to reach the upper deck where the helm was. He inspected the wheel and found the name of the ship he had raided engraved on its wooden arch. “The… what is this, _Newland Washington_? What an odd name…” his brow knotted slightly, yet his face still retained its elegance, and he ran his hands, gloved with impeccable black leather, over the name engraved on the helm. He had seen the colours the ship was flying—it was from the Kingdom of Spades. A small sigh escaped the pirate’s lips and his hands slid across the helm slowly, feeling the smooth wood through his gloves, and his hands curled around two of the many handles of the wheel.

 

The Kingdom of Spades, the land that blooms in spring. How he missed home, but it was like as if he had been there for a long time, he was still barely a child when he and his brothers left, and he had not seen land ever since. He had heard stories from Dean, his brother immediately before him, about home during spring, about how beautiful the fields were during spring, how green the grass was, the trait of Clubs springtime, yet at the same time, the Saphira Roses, the Kingdom’s national flower; beautiful deep blue roses, bloomed fully, their petals widening, the roses beautiful and perfect. They were Arthur’s favourite—he had discovered about them one time he had raided a Spades boat carrying a few pots of the beautiful flower, he took them all and let them grow in a spare room in the brig, keeping one small pot containing only one rose in his personal quarters. He took good care of all of them, and when they were in bloom (signalling the beginning of spring), the _Britannia_ ’s lower decks would smell of the beautiful flower for days until they stopped blooming.

 

Arthur, as much as he loved the sea, wanted nothing more than to return home, but that was not to be—not with _him_ on his tail. He knew the moment he would try to leave the sea, terrible things would happen to all sailors and their ships, until Arthur would return to his place at the helm of the _Britannia_.

 

Down on the deck, a young brunette with wild, messy hair climbed up on one of the rope ladder-nets of the ship, holding on and hanging one leg off it, watching over the crew as they began to take the crates on the ship to their own. A smirk on his face, he swung back and forth on the net, waiting for them to finish as he fiddled with a bandage he had stuck on the bridge of his nose. His loose white shirt’s sleeves flapped slightly in the light breeze and the breeze he was generating himself as he swung, and his savannah hat (suspended by a black string his brother had threaded into it) slung over his neck flapped against his nape, blowing his already-wild hair around.

 

“Put your backs into it, mates!” Captain Kirkland’s first mate Steve O’Malley smirked down at the men under him in his cocky Australia accent (his family came from the desert border just Northwest to Hearts, where wide savannahs, deserts and grasslands converged together, there was his beautiful home, Australia, just next to the region where Luke grew up in, New Zealand, a little closer to Clubs than Australia, covered in lush green grass almost every season of the year). “We need to hustle! We’re still pretty close to Spades, so it won’t take long for that navy boats to come a-callin’!”

 

The men under him called their affirmation and continued with a renewed vigour. Nodding in satisfaction, Steve turned his head to look at his Captain, who was wistfully looking at the helm of the _Newland Washington_ (he had seen the name of the ship painted in white on its hull when he was up in the crow’s nest with his brother), lost in his thoughts. At the corner of his eyes, he saw the last crate being carried off onto their ship. Chuckling, Steve stopped fiddling with his bandage and cupped his hand next to his mouth.

 

“Captain!” Steve crowed, snapping the beautiful Captain out of his trance. The younger man mock-saluted at him at his spot at the helm. “We’ve heaved the last of the crates into the ship! Let’s skedaddle!” he leapt off the net and landed heavily on the deck with a loud thud.

 

Arthur nodded at him (rolling his right eye, his only good eye), before leaping down from the upper deck of the helm. His hat flew off his head, and he landed on his only leg with grace, his long red coat billowing behind him as he inspected the crates being loaded on his beloved ship, the _Britannia_ , named after his hometown at the border of Spades and Clubs in the fairy language, with a cold, calculating acid-green eye. “Are you totally sure there is really no one on board, Steve?” he raised his hand and caught his hat with two fingers as it floated down to him. He put it back on his head smoothly, running two fingers along the brim to adjust it, before deeming it proper.

 

“Not a soul, Captain. Already swept the area thrice, but there really is no one around.” His first mate told him, watching the crew bring the last of the crates onto the ship. “It seems even the Spades have caught wind of your legend, Art.”

 

The blonde captain glared at his first mate and Steve laughed him off, patting the captain’s back. “Sorry, let me correct myself, ‘ _Captain_.’”

 

“Were you not my cousin I’d already have you hung by your ankles above the Kraken’s hungry mouth long ago.” Arthur dryly said. “And it’s not that I care about whatever silly stories my brothers spread about this silly name.”

 

Steve laughed softly, before turning to smile at his Captain. “Well, are you still considering going to see them, wherever they are? It would do you good to get off the sea, you know. We haven’t been to port for four years, Arthur.”  

 

“We will not leave the sea,” Arthur quickly answered, alarming Steve. “We shall stay here, until you take over this ship and this name,” his strong tone wavered, “U-until I finally, _finally_ find a way die. Or maybe get killed.”

 

“You will not die,” Steve suddenly turned serious, grabbing his cousin’s shoulders. “We Kirklands have been carrying this name for generations, and not one Captain Arthur Kirkland has died upon giving his title to his successor.”

 

“Steve,” Arthur sighed exasperatedly at his cousin, “If you ask me, I’d do anything to be free from this death sentence at sea, believe me. But because I’m cursed with this _face_ ,” disgustedly, he gestured at his face, “I’m going to die at sea.”

 

“If only you could tell me what’s wrong with you…!” Steve sighed, shaking Arthur by his shoulders slightly, but the blonde shrugged his hands away, and Steve’s hands fell limply to his side, a sigh escaping his lips.

 

“Enough with this chatter,” Arthur coldly said, turning sharply away on his heel from his brunette cousin to face the crew, already waiting for them on the _Britannia_. “Let’s get out of here before those Spades get reinforcements.”

 

He walked towards his ship, crossing the threshold with ease, Steve following after him, a defeated look on his face. Almost immediately upon reaching his ship, the blonde pirate headed to quarters, leaving Steve to handle the crew.

 

“Steve,” a short blonde with large curls above his ears like a ram’s horns stepped up to the brunette. His voice was heavy with the accent that accompanied his home’s dialect. “Did you have that talk with the Captain again?”

 

“Aw, Luke,” The brunette sighed at his little brother. “I think I got him mad again.” He turned to look at the crew now gathered around him for orders. “Man the sails, and hoist our colours, mates! We’re getting out of here!”

 

Immediately, the crew got into action and soon Steve was left alone with Luke.

 

“What are we going to do, brother?” the brunette sighed as he walked up to the upper deck to man the helm as the ship began to move away from the _Newland Washington_. “Art seems to be dead set on dying before relinquishing the Kirkland name.”

 

Luke frowned, his childish face (he only just turned 12, Steve was about to turn 19 in a few days) darkening to resemble one of a distressed adult. “It wouldn’t be a problem if Angus or Seamus had taken the name, not Arthur.”

 

“But that’s the thing; really, the only reason why Arthur _has_ the name is because it really _is_ his name.” Steve replied, “Stupid family tradition.”

 

“Well, stupid or not, you have to admit, it’s making us rich.” Luke reprimanded his older brother.

 

“Yeah, I know. I actually can’t wait to inherit the name from Arthur.” Steve admitted, turning the helm to port side, away from the _Newland Washington_. “It’s just that… you know, Art. He’s, um,” he sighed, and Luke raised an eyebrow, silently ordering his older brother to say what he intended to. “Okay, fine, he’s scaring me.”

 

“Is this about the dead captains we keep lugging out of Arthur’s room every day after our raids?” Luke asked, and Steve nodded. “Yeah, they were pretty strange.” The blonde nodded. “It’s odd how the cause of their deaths is drowning—“

 

“Yeah! But Art’s bathroom is separate from his room, and there could have been no way for water to get there!” His brother cut him off, and he glared up at him. Steve faltered. “S-sorry.”

 

“There’s that.” Luke nodded. “And there aren’t fairies around to ask what’s wrong.” He looked up at Steve, whose chocolate brown orbs now scanned the sea like he was looking for something. “The sea nymphs seem to know something, but they won’t say, right?”

 

“Yeah.” Steve sighed. “Man, if only Dean was here. He’s the sea nymphs’ favourite.”

 

“Well, he isn’t here,” Luke said, frowning, before patting his brother’s back. “I’ll get up on the crow’s nest now; you better not run this ship into anything, bru.”

 

“And end up getting a repeat of what happened to Uncle’s ship? Course not.” Steve chortled. “And besides, you weren’t even alive back then.”

 

Luke stuck his tongue out at his brother, before jumping up to catch the rope one of the crewmen had tossed at him.

 

“Well, at least I had the decency to listen to what happened to Uncle’s _Titanic_ ,” Luke pouted at him. “You fell asleep while Dean was telling us the story with Arthur.”

 

“Eh, details, who cares about those?” Steve laughed him off, “And besides, that ship was intended for Seamus to inherit, right?”

 

Luke laughed. “Yep. Well, enough small talk. We have a ship to move, brother.”

 

“Aye.” Steve smirked, nodding, before turning his attention to where the _Britannia_ was headed, as Luke leapt from the upper deck, riding the rope as it coiled around the mast. When he was close enough, he reached out for the ladder leading up to the crow’s nest before letting go of the rope and jumping onto the ladder. Quickly, Luke climbed up to the crow’s nest and kept watch.

 

\---

 

Arthur entered his quarters quickly, and soon as the door slammed shut behind him, a sigh escaped his lips. He knew Steve meant well, but he wouldn’t understand what he was going through. With a dismissive wave of his hand, one of the three candles in his quarters (one by the door, another on his study table, and the other next to his bed) lit up, dimly lighting up the items on his study table. Slowly he walked towards his it, where a pot of a Saphira Rose stood at the edge away from the haphazardly arranged papers and maps on top of it, a single rose blooming beautifully in it, glowing an unearthly green. It had been blooming like that ever since he had found it, and Arthur had kept it preserved like that, perfectly blooming, with its soft velvety petals spread wide, with the Gift given to him by the spirits. Arthur looked down at it, caressing its petals with a slim finger, before slowly sliding off his garnet-red coat, letting it fall to the floor, and almost instantly, he felt it—water, gently ghosting over his nape. Beads of it rolled down under his shirt and he shivered as his surroundings turned ghostly cold.

 

“ _Arthur, my beautiful pearl_ ,” a ghostly voice bubbled from behind him, “ _Oh, so beautiful, my lovely dear._ ”

 

Water came up from behind him and brushed his chin.

 

“ _Turn around, beautiful, beautiful darling. Let me see your lovely face._ ”

 

“I’m far from beautiful.” Arthur icily said, “My body is scarred, torn—incomplete. My eye is gone, and—“

 

“ _You lie, my dear Arthur,_ ” the voice said, barely a whisper above the bubbling, “ _You are beautiful, so, so very beautiful… those loved by the forest fairies were always able to restore their beauty…_ ”

 

“Leave me be.” Arthur said, but the coldness persisted.

 

“ _Where is the ship’s captain, my lovely pearl?_ ” the voice asked, “ _Where is my reward?_ ”

 

“They ran away before we could get to them.” Arthur quickly replied, turning around to face what had been talking to him—water that had risen up from the gaps between the planks of the _Britannia_ and had taken form of a man. “Now, leave me be, Sea King, I’ll get you your sacrifice, just let me find another ship—“

 

“ _Arthur, my dearest, I do not wish putting off touching you, my pretty dear._ ” The Sea King’s garbled voice (more audible underwater, but for now Arthur had to settle with straining his ears) told him, and the aggregation of water moved closer to him. Involuntarily, Arthur took a step back.

 

“T-then wish it,” Arthur’s tone faltered slightly, and if the Sea King were to have a solid body, he would have grinned. “There was no one on board that ship, and I refuse to give you one of my men. Wasn’t my leg enough for you?”

 

“ _No, my dear, I want all of you._ ” The garbled voice said, “ _If it was possible, I would have had taken you underwater and claim you for myself, but it is not to be._ ”

 

“You spoiled brat.” The blonde pirate spat at the spirit, “You are nothing but a dirty old man.”

 

“ _But I love you, dear Arthur. Have I not thrown storms at your targets, sunk ships of your enemies with my Kraken? My love for you knows no end, Arthur._ ”

 

“All you want is my face. Why don’t you take it already?” Arthur growled, and the water-man lifted an arm to stroke his face.

 

“ _I want all of you, my dear. I want to touch you._ ” The voice told him. “ _You’re all the more beautiful when you play hard. But, just for you, this time, I will let you free. I’ll send another storm when you call for it, but this time you must make sure I have my host body_.”

 

“… Yes.” Arthur nodded dejectedly, “I understand.”

 

“ _Good, my darling. I await you with baited breath._ ” The ghost of what may have been a kiss from the Sea King brushed over Arthur’s lips, wetting them with saltwater, before the water collapsed to the floor and became an ordinary puddle.

 

The pirate king let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding and shakily fell to his knees, before punching the floor, biting his lip, angry tears filling his eyes. He angrily summoned all his willpower to not let the tears flow.

 

He was going to have to kill yet another fellow captain. When was all this silly killing going to end? Bitterly, Arthur looked up at the sky through his quarters’ windows that had bars that seemed to be caging him in his own ship.

 

“Bloody hell,” he muttered to himself, “Why does this have to happen to me?”


	4. Meeting with the Captain

 

It was two evenings later when Luke had started noticing something.

 

“And then, and then,” Steve excitedly told him, but he stopped listening when he realized what had been bothering him ever since that morning when he noticed something was off with the crew of the _Britannia_. He had been feeling that there was a new face running around the ship, but since he himself didn’t know the entire crew thoroughly, he assumed that it was probably a cabin boy they had picked up from a previous heist… but then again, there was that unmistakable feeling of doubt rising in his belly.

 

Needless to say, Luke O’Malley, in his short 12 years of his life, had never felt the full effects of his super-sharpened intuition until now. He had to learn over time to trust his intuition, because he had been told it was the gift the spirits had passed to him, like Steve’s ability to withstand extreme temperature changes, from the freezing cold of storms during winter in high tide, to the dry, windless toasty-hot summer with the water sickeningly still.

 

“Hey, hey, Luke, you listenin’, mate?” Steve shook his brother’s shoulder to snap him out of his trance, and the blonde looked up at his brother, blinking.

 

“What?”

 

Steve sighed and shook his head, “I was sayin’, I’m not full yet. If you’re not eating up that grub in your plate, I’m going to take it off your hands!”

 

“I thought the cook always prepares 3 portions just for you.” Luke pouted at him, half-glaring, bringing his bowl away from the brunette eyeing it hungrily, before spitting into it, making his older brother pull a face and pull away from him.

 

“Well, he just said we’ve run out.” Steve replied, “And then you spat in your grub. I thought we were brothers, mate!” he whined, leaning heavily on his younger brother. A wild red flush spread across Luke’s usually pale cheeks and he violently kicked his brother away.

 

“G-get off me! I need my own food, you know!” He cried, scooting away from him, before turning away from him, trying to hide the blush on his face.

 

Steve laughed loudly, “Fine, fine. I’ll go bother someone else, then. Maybe they’ll even let me have some of their grub!”

 

He got up from where he and his brother was sitting at the edge of the upper deck, before jumping down onto the lower deck, where the other men were, gathered around a fire, with their own bowls of food they got from under the deck. Luke sighed and looked at his brother’s retreating figure—

 

And suddenly a thought struck him. There was always enough for the crew, even with Steve’s monstrous appetite. His sharpened intuition suddenly acted up again, and with critical leaf-green eyes that could almost rival Arthur’s own (although, granted, Arthur _was_ much, much more beautiful than he was, and more intimidating, too, since he was only barely a teenager, and Arthur was already almost 20) he scanned the crowd gathered around the fire, suddenly the thoughts of his small crush on his brother pushed to the back of his mind when he saw him—a big-bright-blue-eyed young man, in his late teens, with strawberry blonde hair, laughing brightly along with the crew. Steve even had slung an arm over the blonde’s shoulder, laughing loudly, almost rivalling the volume the blonde laughed at, probably drunk—someone must have let him near alcohol again—as one of the crewmembers told a story.

 

Luke almost dropped his bowl. _He’s the odd one out. The black sheep._

 

Worried, the boy gripped his spoon with a shaky hand and barely managed to lift a spoonful of food to his mouth. _We’ve never had a stowaway before. When did he come on board? I had always been keeping watch over everything up in the crow’s nest, what if—what if—_ He forced the spoonful of tasteless gruel down his throat, swallowing thickly.

“Luke!” Steve’s voice loudly called his name ( _Ah, so he **is** drunk_ , Luke thought to himself at the back of his mind), violently jerking the blonde he had slung his arm over in his direction as he turned to wave like a madman at his little brother. “Come on! Join in! The rum tastes great!”

 

Luke shook his head and stood up. “I’m too young to drink.” He replied, before walking down and going into the brig, where the crews’ quarters were. He made sure the door slammed behind him when he closed it.

 

Steve slightly sobered up and the smile on his face disappeared. “… Was it something I said?”

 

“Hey, hey, Steve!” someone called him, and the smile returned to his lips, before engaging in—surprise, surprise—more alcohol and laughter.

 

\---

 

“Luke, there seems to be something troubling you.” Arthur’s voice suddenly spoke up from his ajar door as the blonde boy passed by, making him jolt slightly in alarm, his bowl (with the food still unfinished) almost falling from his grasp, the spoon inside clattering loudly. Luke froze in front of the man’s ajar door, and it swung open to reveal his cousin smiling down at him, an uncharacteristically gentle smile on his beautiful face. _Even with the eye patch_ , Luke thought to himself, _he really does look beautiful._

 

“C-Captain.” He nodded, stuttering slightly.

 

“It’s alright,” Arthur smiled down at him, patting the young boy’s head gently, stroking his soft blonde curls, “When we’re in private, you can call me Arthur. Come in with me, and let’s have dinner together.”

 

Luke allowed a smile to grace his face. _This_ was the cousin Arthur he remembered, loving and beautiful, just like the way he liked it. He nodded at the elder man and went into Arthur’s quarters. Like always, it smelled of blooming Saphira Roses (it was just the beginning of springtime, after all, and not long after Steve’s upcoming birthday came Arthur’s), Arthur’s favourite flower, and Luke spotted the source of the smell—a potted rose at the corner of Arthur’s desk, glowing a soft green. The three light green candles spread across the man’s room were lit, giving the dark room a dim orange glow. He followed Arthur across the room, and sat down across him at the man’s small personal dining table, setting his bowl down across Arthur’s plate of what Luke could make out in the dim light—roast beef, mashed potatoes and peas. Next to the china plate was a goblet of ale.

 

“What the cook is feeding you looks bloody dismal.” Arthur commented, looking into Luke’s bowl. “Have some of mine. I don’t really feel that peckish.”

 

“Th-thanks.” Luke gingerly nodded (carefully keeping his large hair curls out of his bowl), before reaching across to nip a bite-sized piece off Arthur’s roast beef and a small scoop of the mashed potato. He quickly put them in his mouth (they tasted _wonderful_ , compared to the gruel he had been eating with the crew) and chewed quickly to be able to speak. He swallowed and reached for a cup of water Arthur had poured for him while he took from his plate. He downed half of it quickly before setting it down.

 

“So,” Arthur said, slinging his peg leg over his good one, “What’s been bothering you lately, Luke?” he asked, before taking a swig of ale.

 

“W-well, I’ve been getting this feeling that we have an extra crewmember on board.” Luke explained to his cousin, who intently looked at him. Luke swallowed, nervous. “A-and well, there’s proof of that, I guess—“

 

“This is your hyper intuition talking, Luke.” Arthur cut in, his expression serious. “You should understand that it is absolutely correct, and you have to be totally sure of what your gut feeling tells you. It’s a gift given to you by the sky fae.”

 

“I-I know, but it’s such a strange feeling…” Luke kicked himself inwardly for sounding whiny.

 

A fond smile graced Arthur’s face, and he leaned across the table to pat the boy’s shoulder. “I know it’s a little difficult to get used to, but the earlier the better. My brothers had a hard time getting used to their gifts, Dean especially.” He chuckled slightly, “He had to learn how to swim without parting his legs.”

 

“Um, Arthur,” Luke spoke up, “You’ve never actually told me what exactly the gift the forest fairies gave you was,” he looked down at his lap and twiddled his fingers. “I-I mean, I tried asking Steve, but he wouldn’t tell me…” Arthur’s warm hand left his shoulder, and he looked up to see the blonde pirate leaning back in his chair, a pensive look on his face.

 

“He has good reason not to.” Arthur sighed, “My gift is really a curse, more than anything.”

 

“Is it really that bad?” Luke asked, worried for his cousin, but Arthur shook his head and patted the younger one’s head.

 

“It’s ridiculously inconvenient.” Arthur explained, “And bloody useless on the sea, in fact…” he tapped his chin in thought, “It’s bloody useless _everywhere_ , except maybe in court. But fat chances I’ll ever get in _any_ king’s court.”

 

“What is it, then?” Luke asked.

 

Arthur gestured at himself, his hand spread under his chin. “They gave me unrivalled beauty, dear cousin.” He chuckled dryly, “Bloody useful, right?”

 

Luke stayed silent and continued to stare at his cousin.

 

“Honestly, sometimes I think it’s just so bloody unfair.” Arthur sighed, leaning back in his seat, the chair tipping backwards slightly. “When I was younger, I would seethe at the fact Angus could breathe fire, or that Dean could turn into merfolk, heck, even Seamus has boundless luck, and me? Beauty. I think Mother wanted a daughter, not a son.”

 

Luke frowned at him, and shook his head. “I’m sure they must have given it to you for a reason.” The blonde reasoned, but Arthur shook his head.

 

“Any reason would probably be a stupid one,” Arthur said, “Well, enough about me. About that stowaway you’ve been trying to tell me about.”

 

“Ah, yes. I’ve seen him just earlier with the men.” Luke said, “Blonde, blue eyes, very tall, taller than you,” Arthur raised an eyebrow, “Yes, Arthur, even with heels, medium build, and, um…” Luke flushed slightly, “Very handsome.”

 

A wry smile made its way to Arthur’s lips, and Luke raised his hands in defence. “I-I’m not interested! I-I’m just saying!”

 

“Alright, Luke whatever you say,” Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “Do you think he is a threat?”

 

“I’m not sure… I’m worried, though, if only I had seen him when he came onto the _Britannia_ , m-maybe, I-I don’t know, he might do something, or—”

 

“Calm down, Luke,” Arthur cut him off, frowning slightly in thought. “We shall apprehend this stowaway when the crew is asleep. You said he was hiding within the crew, right?”

 

Luke nodded gingerly, and Arthur nodded. “Right. Accompany me to the brig later tonight, then. And bring my Commodore. Is Steve fit for action?”

 

“It’s nothing a cold bucket of water can fix,” Luke nodded, and Arthur grinned.

 

“Excellent.” A maniacal look crossed his beautiful face. “I’ll show him what he gets for doing whatever he wants on my ship.”

 

\---

 

The crew’s quarters was still, far _too_ still, Alfred thought to himself as he gently lowered himself down from his hammock. Without a sound, and only the gentle creaking of the _Britannia_ as it rocked slightly in the gentle waves rolling under it, he lowered his feet and hands onto the wooden floor. His fingertips and toes made contact with the ship’s varnished flooring (Alfred had noted that it wasn’t as clean-cut as the _Newland Washington_ ’s) and soon his palms and soles followed. He lowered his body, and then bent down to reach under his hammock to reach for his musket, which he had hidden underneath a pile of scraggly cloth. Quietly, he stayed low and crept away from the hammocks. He climbed up the ladder leading to the brig, and he made his way around the crates that had been taken from the _Newland Washington._

 

The blonde reached what he was looking for in record time—the box he had hidden in to get onto the _Britannia_. His fingers brushed along the crate’s lid—the nails were loose (he broke out of it when he heard the coast was clear) and he lifted the lid. Alfred peered inside and grinned when he found what he had left behind—the King’s Pocket Watch, the symbolic treasure of the Kingdom of Spades. Quickly, he shoved it in his pocket, grinning at how he had “borrowed” (well, more of _stolen_ , but it was going to be his anyway) it from the treasury of his castle.

 

_“Your Majesty? Whatever is the matter?” one of the soldiers guarding the doors asked._

_“My Jack is in need of your assistance, the two of you,” Alfred said as seriously as he could, holding back the snickers that had started bubbling at the back of his throat. “Immediately. Worry not, I’ve already sent for replacements to guard here.”_

_“Yes, Your Majesty.” The two men nodded, before jogging away in the direction of Yao’s study. Alfred grinned and let himself in, quickly snatched what he was looking for (but not without gazing longingly at the Queen’s heirloom, the Timekeeper, a larger, round version of the King’s Pocket Watch, thinking of his plan to win Captain Arthur Kirkland’s hand in marriage) and ran out of the room. The moment he shut the door behind him, the men he had distracted came running back to him._

_“Your Majesty, the Jack did not need us,” they said, and Alfred shrugged, hiding the Pocket Watch behind his back._

_“Huh, he must be pulling my leg. Well, then. Back to your stations, men.” He ordered, slipping the Pocket Watch into his waistcoat’s belt. His men saluted him, and returned to their places at the sides of the door._

_A triumphant smirk on his face, Alfred walked on, not looking back._

A small sound of rustling fabric snapped Alfred back to attention and he closed the lid of the crate without making a single noise. He huddled close to it, hiding himself as much as he could, and grabbed a nearby sail cloth to hide himself under.

 

Nothing happened for the next few silent minutes, as Alfred stilled himself against the rough wood of the crate.

 

As he sat there, he let his thoughts wander. It had been roughly two days since he had stowed away on the _Britannia_ , and in those two days not once did he see the captain (well, he assigned himself to the kitchen with the cook—peeling potatoes glumly as he thought about what to actually do upon presented the opportunity to meet his future Queen—as a way to avoid immediate detection. He later realized it was a stupid position to take, since the Captain hardly frequented the kitchen) he had his eyes on.

 

A wry grin spread across his handsome face. Maybe now was the time to meet his lovely Arthur Kirkland. How fantastic, he mused, but the location could have been at least a bit better; maybe the deck, with the full moon right above them? Something romantic? Or maybe, in a fierce duel, with the seas roaring around them, and then he’d trip and fall right into his arms, and he’d fit so snugly, so _perfectly_ , and—

 

The young monarch slapped himself. What was he thinking; he was not some love-struck teen! (Well, he was a _teen_ ager, he thought at the back of his mind glumly.) He shuffled uncomfortably under the sheet, and suddenly he heard a laugh.

 

“Are the crates far too uncomfortable, love?” the familiar, beautiful voice he heard two days ago met his ears. “Or are the bugs getting far too friendly?”

 

 _This is it._ Alfred grinned. He gripped his trusty musket with his right hand and flung the sail cloth off him with a flourish with his left, earning him alarmed gasps—probably the crew, as the off-white cloth flew to his side. Quickly he got on his knees and pulled his musket upwards to rest against his shoulder, and both of his hands supporting it, he lifted the barrel to the face of the person standing right in front of him.

 

The sounds of swords unsheathing from their scabbards and growls of intimidation filled the air, and Alfred came face-to-face with a long, elegant, _beautiful_ rapier’s tip, its silver blade glimmeringly dully in the light that one of the crew had held up for their captain. Alfred noted mountain emeralds (a Clubs signature) embedded along the length of the blade, its hilt studded with river rubies (presumably from Hearts) and shore diamonds (hailing from Diamonds). Alfred wondered how more beautiful would forest sapphires from his own kingdom would look on the sword (or on the pirate’s soon-to-be-diadem, or on a wedding ring on his finger), as his gaze travelled up the blade, up the hilt, past the creamy white hand that held it, up the arm of the Captain, and straight at his face.

 

Alfred’s jaw would have dropped, were it not for the current circumstances.

 

Captain Arthur Kirkland was absolutely, breath-taking, gorgeous, heavenly _beautiful_.

 

Under a mop of messy, wind-tossed sandy-blonde hair that looked soft to the touch, a fierce, fiery leaf-green eye glared at him, and to its left, its partner hid behind an eye patch. Arthur’s face was flawless and like a doll’s, slightly heart-shaped, and his lips were slightly pink, luscious, and utterly kissable. Beautiful porcelain skin hid under his clothes, a heavy deep red coat slung over his shoulders, regal designs embroidered expertly in gold down the sleeves and shoulders, and a pristine black velvet belt hung at its loops, unclasped. Under Arthur’s elegant coat were a simple white shirt and black pants, held up by a shiny black leather belt (all three with not one stain or speck of dust on them) and a neat cravat under his chin. Alfred’s eyes travelled lower, past Arthur’s belt to see that the green-eyed beauty was missing his right leg, and now a peg leg stood next to his other good leg.

 

“See something you like?” the blonde smirked, bringing his rapier closer to Alfred’s face.

 

And that _voice_. Alfred groaned inwardly, Arthur was absolutely perfect. The blonde shifted his weight from one knee to the other, and he felt it—alarming him slightly, but he kept his surprise to himself. _How wonderful,_ he dryly thought to himself, _I now have an erection._

 

The green-eyed blonde flicked his rapier upwards dangerously near the monarch’s nose and Alfred lifted his head, allowing Arthur a better view of his face. Looking up at the earrings (they were emerald, but Alfred couldn’t wait until they were sapphires) glinting against the Captain’s face, Alfred looked mirrored the grin on the pirate’s face, even more cocky than the grin the man standing over him was giving him.

 

Automatically, his finger ghosted over the safety switch of his musket, and he cocked his weapon, feeling the bullets click into place, soothing him slightly like it was his second nature.

 

Alfred figured he should say something charming, or maybe just state his purpose and identity, but his ego wouldn’t let him sound so love struck. Not yet. _Especially_ with that uncomfortable bulge in his pants.

 

Flashing his cockiest grin at his bride-to-be, he chuckled.

 

“Well, hello, Captain Arthur Kirkland. I see you’re as beautiful as they all say, missing eye and leg and all.”


	5. Falling In Love? I Think Not!

 

“Oh?” A smirk formed on Arthur’s lips. “Well, then. Give me a good reason as to why I should not toss you overboard to the mercy of the Kraken.”

 

“I,” Alfred’s grin couldn’t get any wider than what he had now, “Am the current King of the Kingdom of Spades, Alfred Fitzgerald Jones.”

 

Arthur blinked at him, disbelieving. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard. Are you daft or something?”

 

“Not at all. Want proof? Here!” Alfred lowered his musket and pulled out the Pocket Watch from his pocket. He was met with blank stares, and he slightly deflated—

 

“That’s the Pocket Watch from the Kingdom of Spades!” a young boy’s voice cried from behind a brunette that stood near Arthur, and Alfred peeked past Arthur to see a small blonde boy clutching at the brunette’s side, looking at Alfred’s Pocket Watch with wide green eyes. “Only the King has that relic! Its partner is the—“

 

“The Queen’s Timekeeper, with its enchanted hands pointing eternally at the rulers of its Kingdom.” Alfred recited perfectly, remembering what Yao had told him about his Kingdom’s National Treasures. The little boy he interrupted hid behind his human shield. Alfred, smiling slightly at the boy’s reaction, returned the pocket watch to his pocket.

 

“Y-yes…” he muttered into the brunette’s pant leg, and the brunette’s eyes widened.

 

“You’re tellin’ me _this_ guy is the one who single-handedly expanded Spades northwards into the Northern Forest?” he gasped, shocked, making Arthur turn to look at him, also alarmed.

 

“The very guy.” Alfred grinned, standing up, holding his musket up defensively. “Why do you think I’m carrying this baby around for?” he asked rhetorically, patting the musket.

 

Arthur bit his lip. “Alright, what is it you want from us?” He asked venomously, turning around and pointing his rapier at the young monarch’s face. “What do you think you’re doing, invading my ship like this? How did you get in here?”

 

Alfred stared him down, focusing his bright blue eyes at Arthur’s only green one. “I hid in a crate.” He replied simply, gesturing at the crate he had hidden next to. “But the rest… All in good time, babe.” He smirked, “But for now, I want you to accept me into your crew.” He lowered his musket by his side.

 

Arthur scowled (and yet, he was still so beautiful). “And what makes you think I won’t toss you overboard all the same, _King_?”

 

“And toss the balance of the four kingdoms to the wind? Wonderful idea, beautiful.” Arthur flinched at the word, beautiful, and Alfred raised an eyebrow at his reaction. “I suggest you listen to _me_ , Captain.”

 

“… Toss him into the brig.” Arthur faced away from him, turning to face his crew. “Lock him up until we get close enough to Spades.”

 

“Hey! Wait a sec!” Alfred yelled at him, raising his free hand, and Arthur turned his head to glare at him. The stone-hard glare he sent made the younger blonde falter slightly.

 

“You will stay there until we reach Spades.” He repeated firmly, and Alfred’s hand fell to his side. “Steve! Lock him in! The rest of you, to your stations, we’ve changed course and we’re headed back to Spades!”

 

Alfred stared at the blonde as he stalked away, and suddenly, he felt the messy-haired brunette that had yelled grab his arm. He turned his head to look at him, and the man named Steve looked back at him with hard eyes, and yet Alfred could see a hint of apology in them. A pair of small, child-like hands held his other arm (the one holding the musket) and he looked down to see the blonde boy that hid behind the brunette. Upon closer inspection, Alfred noticed that the boy had large ram-like hair curls.

 

“Hey there.” He said, and the boy jolted slightly.

 

“O-oh, um, uh, h-hello, y-Your m-Majes—“

 

“Luke.” The brunette cut him off, “Calm down, mate.” Alfred turned his head to look at Steve.

 

“You’re Steve, right? You were dead drunk this dinner.” Alfred said, pulling his arm away from the brunette. “And I can walk by myself. Just show me the way.”

 

“Yeah, the name’s O’Malley. Steve O’Malley. I’m the Captain’s first mate. He’s Luke.” The brunette suddenly smiled, and he gestured at the blonde, “My little brother. Now, I _was_ drunk. But it’s nothing a bucket of cold water can’t fix.” He snickered, before winking at his little brother. The blonde blushed slightly and hid his face in Alfred’s shirt.

 

The blue-eyed blonde laughed. “So that’s how you do it.”

 

“Yep,” Steve nodded, “Now, this way, Your Majesty.” He snickered slightly, and Alfred rolled his eyes.

 

“Just Alfred, thanks.” He said, before following Steve down the ladder he had just climbed up.

 

“Right, right,” Steve nodded, “I just have a question, and it’s been buggin’ me since I saw it, mate, what _is_ that thing?” he asked, pointing at the musket that Alfred had swung over his shoulder.

 

“Oh, this? This is called a musket. I made it myself. It’s much stronger than arrows and it can even pierce armour.” Alfred explained, and from the corner of his eye he could see Luke looking up at him with big green wide eyes filled with wonder.

 

“Crikey, that’s cool, mate.” Steve grinned, coming to a stop in front of a cell with bars. “Can I have a demonstration?”

 

“Well,” Alfred drawled teasingly, “I don’t know, the bullets are hard to come by, since no one uses them but me, so I make them, and I’ll be stuck in a jail cell…”

 

“Oh, come on, Al, mate,” Steve whined, and Alfred had to bite back the snicker that started bubbling up in his throat. Luke suddenly tugged at his brother’s sleeve, and shook his head.

 

“Come on, Steve. We have to listen to what the Captain said.” He said, and Steve pouted.

 

“Aw, all right.” He sighed, before unlocking the cell’s door and gesturing for Alfred to come in. “Your Majesty,” he grinned at the blonde, bowing with a flourish.

 

Alfred laughed and let himself in. Steve closed the door behind Alfred and locked it with a loud clang.

 

“I’ll go ahead, then, bru,” Luke spoke up, catching the brunette’s attention. “I need to get up on the crow’s nest.”

 

“Aye,” he nodded, and his little brother walked away, as Alfred sat down Indian-style on the floor, setting his musket down next to him, looking up at Steve. When the little boy was out of earshot, Steve suddenly knelt down to talk to Alfred. “’Ey, personally, I think you’re a great guy,” he said, smiling slightly at him, speaking in a hushed tone. “I’d actually like it if you were on our crew, especially since I heard you conquered the entire Northern Fantasia. Is that true, mate?”

 

“Well,” Alfred chuckled, “There’s a reason why the Northern Forests are now associated with Spades, right?” he grinned, and Steve laughed.

 

“’Course, mate,” Steve nodded. “Well, I’ll try to convince the Captain to let you in, but you’d better prepare yourself, he’s a bit… demanding on who should be on this ship.”

 

“That’d be awesome,” Alfred breathed. He was delighted. He now had an ally, and he was even the Captain’s first mate!

 

“It’s nothin’,” Steve smiled at him, “But just out of curiosity—‘cause royals don’t usually become stowaways—I’m wondering, just what are you planning to do here on the _Britannia_?”

 

“Well, just promise me you won’t tell anyone, especially the Captain,” Alfred said, “I’ll be the one to tell them.”

 

“Sure, mate.” Steve nodded.

 

“You see, I came here to make Arthur my Queen.”

 

\---

 

Arthur entered his quarters silently fuming at the blonde monarch he had caught hiding in his beloved ship’s brig. He shrugged his coat off and tossed it aside in the direction of a nearby chair, before sitting heavily down onto his bed. A sigh escaped his lips and he waved his hand dismissively, and the three candles in his room extinguished, plunging his room into darkness.

 

He lay back onto his bed and looked unseeing at the ceiling.

 

Excellent. Now, aside from having the ever-impatient (not to mention, _creepy_ ) Sea King hovering around him, he now had precious cargo in the form of a certain Alfred F. Jones, the King of Spades.

 

“Honestly, these royals think they can do anything they like,” he grumbled, “Really, just because they have the means to do so… how rude.”

 

His shoulder blades began to ache and he turned to lie down on his side. He gazed at the still-glowing Saphira Rose with a wistful eye.

 

“Spades… I wonder how it’s like back home…” he uttered, and suddenly Alfred’s grinning face flashed across his mind. A blush spread across the pirate’s face, and he spluttered, rolling over to look away from the rose on his table.

 

“Wh-what the bloody hell,” he gasped, forcing his suddenly fiercely-beating heart to calm down; “I don’t have time to think about fools like him!”

 

But, Arthur’s traitorous mind continued, Luke wasn’t lying when he said the stowaway was handsome, in fact, he was even _very_ attractive, with those large blue eyes, clear like the summer sky, and that fantastic build that seemed to emanate through the baggy white shirt the blonde wore, and that _grin_ , oh, yes, very—

 

“Stop it!” Arthur squealed at himself, rolling around, burying his beetroot-red face into his pillow. “I will not be swayed, you foolish mind, why I ought to--!”

 

He didn’t finish when his mind took his imagination a _little_ further.

 

What if Alfred was here to ask for his hand in marriage?

 

“N-nonsense,” Arthur stopped writhing on his bed, “I’m the most feared pirate in the seas of Fantasia, not some spring bride he could scoop in his arms, and… and…”

 

Oh, a spring bride? How lovely, the beautiful Saphira Roses would be in bloom during their wedding, their scent would carry over throughout the ceremony, and when they would kiss, a petal would get caught between their lips, and then Alfred would laugh (with that oh-so-charming voice of his) and would whisper how beautiful he looked, and then they’d kiss again—

 

Arthur punched the wall next to his bed. His face felt like it was on fire.

 

“Stop thinking…” he growled to himself.

 

And their wedding night, _oh yes._ It wouldn’t be surprising if Alfred would be _wonderful_ in bed, those muscles on the young man’s body couldn’t be useful on the battlefield _only_ , right?

 

Arthur sat up, scowling, as the three candles in his room lit up.

 

“I’m definitely not going to get any sleep tonight.” He grumbled, reaching for the bottle of ale on his bedside table.

 

Outside, unbeknownst to him, a small pink fairy outside his window giggled and flew away, the magic light glowing off her body slowly fading as the spell she had cast began to wear off.

 

\---

 

The following day, Steve knocked on Arthur’s door and let himself in.

 

“Art?” he asked, looking around, before finding the pirate sitting at his windowsill, looking out of it with a scowl on his face.

 

“What is it, Steve?” Arthur turned his face, and Steve laughed at the presence of the eye bag under Arthur’s only eye. “Bloody hell, it’s too early for this bollocks. Spit it out, Steve.”

 

“A-Art,” Steve managed between guffaws, “Had a good sleep last night?”

 

“I swear, continue this and I will castrate you, wanker.” Arthur glared at him, waving the bottle of ale he had in his hand at the brunette. “Out with it.”

 

“Well,” Steve immediately quietened, “I was going to appeal for my mate Jones, cus.”

 

“And _why_ would you do that?” Arthur drawled, turning fully away from the window to face his cousin. He crossed his arms and slung his peg leg over his good one.

 

“Well, he’s a great guy,” Steve reasoned, “I got to know him before he was discovered, really, and well, I’m pretty sure he’s a good fighter. Just let him be part of us for a while before we return him to Spades.”

 

Arthur frowned at him and tapped his chin in thought. “What if he lets us get caught?”

 

“Then I’ll take responsibility.” Steve grinned at him, “This ship is going to be mine eventually, right?”

 

Arthur looked at him, frowning, and the brunette patted his shoulder.

 

“And who knows, you might just end up liking the guy. He does seem to like you. Get yourself off the sea.”

 

That would be absolutely bloody wonderful, Arthur wanted to say, but instead, he pursed his lips and turned away.

 

“Don’t be absurd, Steve.” He said, and the brunette clapped him on his back, hard. The blonde winced. “And that hurt.”

 

“Please?” Steve whined at him, hands clasped, “Just give him a shot.”  
  


“Oh, alright, fine!” Arthur turned to look at his cousin. “I’ll let him become one of my crew,” the smile on Steve’s face brightened. “If, and only if, he defeats me in a duel.”

 

“That’s not fair, Art!” Steve cried, the smile on his face disappearing. “You’re a beast with the sword!”

 

“Exactly.” Arthur nodded, “There is no other way for him to join my crew.”

 

Steve bit his lip, and the green-eyed blonde grinned.

 

“Have faith in your friend, Steve.” Arthur chuckled, “You _did_ say he took over the North of Fantasia.”

 

“Well, yeah, but…”

 

“That is all.” Arthur said, his tone marking the end of their conversation. “If it comforts you, I’ll even let him use that strange wooden metal-pole-pipe-sword-on-the-end thingamajig he had been carrying around with him.”

 

Steve sighed reluctantly and turned to leave, opening the door. Arthur turned his attention back to the window.

 

“By the way, Art,” he said, and Arthur looked over his shoulder at him, “It’s called a musket. He made it himself.” He stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

 

“Alfred F. Jones, the King of Spades, eh…” Arthur smirked to himself, leaning against the window frame. “Do you honestly think you can pull me away from the sea?”


	6. He's a Pirate

“Al! Mate!” Steve called, catching Alfred’s attention. The blonde looked up from his musket (he had been cleaning it with a rag he managed to reach just beyond the cell) to see the brunette running up to his cell, the keys in his hand. The young monarch’s eyes widened in delight, and he stood up as Steve unlocked the door.

 

“You managed to convince him to let me in?” he asked excitedly as he stepped out of the cell.

 

“Well, sort of.” Steve looked at him, grinning bashfully. “You’re going to have to fight him first.”

 

Alfred grinned. “You won’t believe how thankful I am for you.”

 

“Even if I got you challenged to a duel?” Steve blinked, “Are you crazy, mate?”

 

Alfred grinned. “There’s a reason why I want to marry Arthur, you know.”

 

\---

 

Musket slung over his shoulder, Alfred stepped out onto the sun-bathed deck of the _Britannia_ to find Arthur standing a few metres away from him, rapier at his side, the entire crew crowded around them, forming a semicircle around them, a makeshift ring for their duel. The pirate had his arms crossed, a cocky grin on his face.

 

“Good day, Captain,” Alfred smirked right back at him, pulling his musket off his shoulder. “Nice weather we’re having today.”

 

“Exquisite,” Arthur replied, unsheathing his rapier. “Now then, it’s high time you prove yourself to me, eh, poppet?”

 

“Sure thing, babe,” Alfred snickered, cocking his musket and pointing it at the shorter blonde. “Just watch out, though. My buddy here packs a punch. I wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty face of yours.”

 

Arthur scowled at him, before poising to strike. He lifted his free hand (his right hand) and gestured at him to come hither.

 

Alfred smirked, and pulled the trigger. The familiar loud bang shot out of his musket’s barrel, and the recoil impacted into Alfred’s shoulder. He held his ground, having used the musket for his conquest wars, but the gunpowder smoke billowed out of the barrel, creating a mist around him. The crew around him made hushed comments of amazement.

 

Suddenly Arthur charged through the smoke, and Alfred brought up his musket to defend himself. The rapier struck the wood of his musket, creating a scratch across the varnished finish. Alfred’s eyes widened momentarily in surprise, but he quickly regained himself and pushed the pirate away as the smoke cleared. Arthur stumbled slightly but regained his balance, a grin on his face.

 

“What a wonderful weapon, Your Majesty,” Arthur said, “That was bloody difficult to stop.” He gestured to his right, where, on the deck’s floor, the bullet was embedded. “Almost put a dent in my Commodore.”

 

“I try, darling.” Alfred smirked, before charging at him, the sword at the end of his musket glinting in the light of the sun. Arthur blocked it with his rapier, and soon they were in a rhythm of blows, parries, and gunshots, the crew watching the both of them in awe as Alfred's fingers, deft, quick and fast, reloaded his weapon in seconds.

 

Jab, jab, block, jab, shoot. Alfred let his conqueror self take over, and he could feel the familiar thrill of the battlefield in his duel with the pirate captain. (Somewhere at the back of his mind, he wondered how the blonde managed to deflect his bullets—not one of his enemies managed to do so before.) Their grins mirroring each other’s, the two blondes showed no signs of stopping.

 

They broke apart to catch their breaths for a moment, the two of them stalking each other in a wide circle in case the other decided to attack. Panting slightly, Arthur juggled his rapier between his hands, before gripping it securely with his right.

 

“I thought you were left-handed,” Alfred spoke up, and Arthur smirked.

 

“I can go both ways.” He simply stated, before thrusting his sword at Alfred. The blonde parried it with ease and moved forward, grabbing Arthur’s hand that held his rapier.

 

“In and out of the bedroom?” he asked, pulling Arthur close and leaning in and managing to place a chaste kiss on the pirate’s soft cheek. “If you know what I mean.”

 

Arthur’s face flushed and his eyes widened, before he threw a punch at Alfred’s gut. The blonde dodged it just in time, making Arthur swipe at air.

 

“Pervert,” Arthur spat at him, and Alfred laughed brightly.

 

“I try, babe.” The young monarch laughed, before the both of them once again got caught in each other’s flurry of jabs, parries and gunshots.

 

“Wow,” Alfred panted, as they parted momentarily once more, stalking around each other in the perimeter of their ring, “You’re pretty,” _and_ , Alfred added mentally, “Strong, Captain.”

 

“I’m flattered,” Arthur bowed slightly, smirking. “You are taking longer to defeat than my previous foes.”

 

He lunged at the blue-eyed blonde again, and Alfred parried him. Arthur kept pressing his rapier down on Alfred’s musket’s blade, and the two blonde’s eyes locked together.

 

“Well, well.” Alfred grinned down at Arthur, straining slightly at the pressure he was holding up, “You seem really sure you will defeat me, beautiful.” He pushed with extra force, knocking Arthur back, switching their positions. Now Arthur was parrying his blow. The taller man leaned his face closer to Arthur’s. “Just how do you intend on kicking my ass, huh?”

 

Arthur smirked up at him, a cunning look on his face. “Elementary, my dear Alfred.” The monarch raised an eyebrow. “This.”

 

Suddenly Arthur pulled his sword back from Alfred and the taller man tumbled forward as he lost his balance. In one smooth sweep, Arthur ran his rapier into the deck’s floor, lodging it in place, before grabbing Alfred’s shirt collar. The blue-eyed blonde’s eyes widened and Arthur pulled him in—

 

Crashing their lips together in a clumsy kiss, their teeth knocking against each other, their noses touching like lovers.

 

Alfred’s eyes widened. Arthur’s lips really were as soft as he had imagined. They were so lovely, so _perfect_ —

 

Before Alfred could kiss back, Arthur suddenly kneed him in the gut. All the air rushed out of Alfred’s body and he slumped down onto his knees, letting go of his musket. It fell with a loud clatter, as Arthur pulled away from him, grinning, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

 

“That was payback for _your_ dirty little thing back then.” Arthur dryly said, “And your musket’s bullets are little monsters, the lot of them.” The blonde looked down at his deck, where a few holes from the ricocheted bullets (some he had managed to aim away from the deck and into the open sea) he had deflected with his sword and magic.

 

“F-fuck,” Alfred swore, gasping to regain his breath. “You little vixen!”

 

“It’s fox, thank you very much,” Arthur glared at him, stepping on the blonde’s shoulder with his peg leg. “Now, see where you stand? It’s back to the brig for you.”

 

“Not if I can help it,” Alfred growled, grabbing the pirate’s peg leg and pulling it upwards, making Arthur lose his balance. Quickly, he got on his feet, grabbed the blonde pirate by the lapels of his coat and pulled him close, holding him against his larger torso.

 

“Wh-what are you doing, you git? L-let go of me!” Arthur spluttered, beating his fists against Alfred’s chest.

 

“Mm. You really do have a snug fit in my arms.” Alfred smiled down at him gently, and Arthur paused.

 

From where he was, Alfred looked absolutely _divine_.

 

The sun shone through his golden hair, giving it a beautiful sunny glow, lighting up even his beautiful blue eyes, clear and bright. The gentle smile he was giving Arthur sent shivers down the smaller man’s body, and a bright red flush spread across the blonde’s cheeks.

 

“I…”

 

“Hey, what are you doin’ with the Captain, mate?” Steve suddenly asked threateningly from behind Alfred, the tip of a sword brushing against his nape.

 

“Nothin’ much.” Alfred smirked, letting go of Arthur. The blonde, dazed, only stepped a bit away, still staring at the blonde monarch. Alfred turned to face Steve, the cocky grin on his face widening.

 

“Tell you what, Captain Kirkland,” he spoke up, snapping Arthur out of his daze.

 

“Y-yes?”

 

“How ‘bout I have a go at your entire crew?” Steve’s eyes widened as Alfred continued to stare him down. “You know; a good old _mano y mano_ with your guys. If I win, I get to join your crew.”

 

Arthur’s eyes widened and he shook his head, “What, that’s preposterous—“

 

“Let ‘im, Captain.” A knowing smirk spread across Steve’s face as he returned Alfred’s gaze. “I’m up for a good thrashin’.” He tossed aside his sword and cracked his knuckles.

 

Arthur frowned, before finally nodding. “Fire at will, then.”

 

Grinning, Alfred pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside (in _Arthur’s_ direction, of all places he could toss it at; it landed right on Arthur’s head, and although he had to admit he liked the scent of the blonde monarch, he still ripped it off his head, spluttering, before tossing it away from him, like it was some dirty rag), before bending his knees and lowering himself, raising his fists.

 

“Bring it on.”

 

\---

 

Minutes later, only Steve and Alfred were the ones standing, the two of them fiercely exchanging blows with no indications of stopping. The rest of the crew had either been knocked unconscious or rendered unable to fight, the men returning to their places to form the makeshift ring. Arthur, with Luke standing slightly behind him (Arthur had forbidden the little boy to join in the fight, no matter how hard the boy had pleaded), watched them with a pensive scowl on his face.

 

Alfred and Steve broke apart, panting, grins still on their faces as they took a moment to catch their breaths.

 

“You’re not half bad, mate,” Steve panted out, and Alfred chuckled breathily.

 

“You too.” He nodded, “Didn’t think you’d be this aggressive.”

 

“’Course, mate. Just because I like you doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you.” Steve snickered, before lunging at Alfred again.

 

“Arthur,” Luke quietly said to his cousin, “When do you think they’ll stop?”

 

“Very soon, I hope.” Arthur nodded at him, without taking his eyes off the two. “Alfred… he’s… really something else.”

 

“So you’re going to let him in?” Luke asked, and Arthur looked at him, his cheeks slightly red.

 

“O-of course not yet, the match isn’t done yet, right?” Arthur stuttered, “A-and it’s not that I like him or anything, I-I mean, I,”

 

“Arthur, I never said anything about you liking him.” Luke chuckled, and Arthur’s eyes widened.

 

“… Bollocks.” He muttered to himself, deflating, before turning to watch them again.

 

Alfred knew he was running out of energy, but with acceptance coming this much closer, he knew he shouldn’t give up, not yet.

 

 _It’s time to cheat, I suppose,_ Alfred thought to himself. _I can’t give up this chance._

“Hey, Steve.” He managed to say, and the brunette only grunted in response. “Look, it’s a mermaid!”

 

The brunette’s eyes widened and he turned his head—

 

Alfred suddenly threw a punch at his face. Steve managed to catch himself, and swung his leg up to kick his head, his hands moving to catch Alfred’s fist. Alfred’s free hand grabbed Steve’s leg swinging up at him, and his eyes widened when he felt his hand make contact with Steve’s.

 

The two of them froze to notice their current position—Alfred’s right fist cupped in Steve’s hand, dangerously close to the brunette’s face, and his left hand holding on to Steve’s foot somewhere near his hip.

 

Steve was in a more awkward position—his left leg was caught in Alfred’s grip, his right one beginning to shake as it strained to carry his weight. His right hand was already resting against his cheek, holding Alfred’s fist that was about to collide with his face. His other hand was outstretched to help him balance on one leg.

 

The both of them were panting as they stared at each other.

 

Suddenly, the sound of clapping caught their attention, and Alfred turned to look at Arthur, who was the one clapping, walking towards them. The both of them let go of each other. Alfred rubbed his wrists, as Steve righted himself and jumped a few times to get his balance back.

 

“Captain?” Alfred asked, meeting Arthur halfway, as the green-eyed pirate lowered his hands.

 

“That’s quite enough, Steve.” The blonde paid no attention to him. “You’ve done well.”

 

Steve snorted, pulling his shirt off and wiping his brow with it. “Dirty bastard tried to trick me,” he said, and Alfred’s eyes widened, but he suddenly grinned and winked at him. “But it’s been a while since I’ve been in a good old brawl.I had fun. He’d make a great pirate.”

 

Arthur nodded, finally facing Alfred, a small smile on his face. The young monarch stared at the beauty smiling up at him and a small hint of a blush spread across his face.

 

“Well, that settles it, then.” He said, “Welcome to the _Britannia_ , Alfred F. Jones.” He chuckled, “At least, until we get you back home.”

 

A large grin spread across Alfred’s face and he charged forward at Arthur, pulling him into a bear hug, laughing loudly.

 

“Thanks a lot, Artie!” he cried happily, causing the flustered captain’s blush spread like wildfire across his pale doll-like face.

 

“L-let me go! Wanker!” Arthur spluttered, beating his fists against Alfred’s (oh-so- _sexy_ , broad—Arthur mentally slapped himself,) torso, wriggling to get out of the taller blonde’s grip. “Y-you’re shirtless! Y-you’re getting my coat dirty!”

 

Alfred laughed good-naturedly and pulled away slightly, just so Arthur was still in his arms, and smiled down at him.

 

“Really. Thanks a lot, Arthur.” He said, suddenly uncharacteristically gently. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

 

“Wh-what?” Arthur blinked at him, before suddenly, Alfred’s hand snaked behind the blonde’s neck and gently rested at his nape. “… Alfred?”

 

The taller blonde suddenly pulled him close and their lips pressed against each other gently, almost _lovingly_ , and Arthur’s green eyes widened, his fierce red blush now hotter than before.

 

“Hey! Al! Mate! We have a little tyke on board! Keep your hands to yourself!” Steve guffawed from behind them, and Arthur pulled away from Alfred, thoroughly flustered.

 

“Sorry,” the blonde laughed, turning to look at Luke. “You didn’t see anything, ‘kay?” he winked at the little boy (who was now half-hiding behind his brother) and Luke buried his face into his brother’s shirt.

 

“D-do you always do this to other people?” Arthur stuttered, shrinking slightly when he heard the collective snickers of his crew. Alfred chuckled.

 

“Only to the really pretty ones.” He said, “For example, _you_.”

 

Arthur’s eyes widened, before flustered, he weakly punched Alfred’s arm.

 

“Wh-whatever.” He stuttered, and Alfred’s grin widened. “J-just… put a shirt on. T-to your stations, men! L-let’s go look for a new target to raid!”

 

The crew (collective snickering included) left them, leaving only Steve, Luke and Alfred alone with Arthur.

 

“Luke, up to the crow’s nest for you,” Arthur told the blonde, and Luke did as he was told. “Steve, the helm. I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.”

 

“And I’ll be right behind you,” Alfred smirked, “If you know what I mean.”

 

“Shut it, you perverted wanker,” Arthur snapped at him, still blushing. “You go with Steve and learn the ropes. We’ll be doing a raid very soon. I suggest you prepare yourself.”

 

He turned on his heel and left. Alfred sighed and looked at Steve.

 

“Prepare, he says.” He chuckled.

 

“Time to dislodge them bullets from the deck, mate.” Steve snickered.


	7. Curiosity Kills the Cat

Now properly dressed, Alfred had finished pulling the last of his bullets from the deck when felt something strange in the air. He paused, standing up straight, one hand clutching the small satchel full of bullets he had brought with him in the crate he had hidden in. A ponderous look on his face, he scrunched up his brow and looked at the horizon. The wind blew past him, giving him an uneasy feeling, and in the distance, Alfred could see storm clouds.

 

“Hey, Steve!” he called up to the man standing at the helm. “There’s a storm far ahead!”

 

“Don’t mind it,” Steve called back to him, “It’s that characteristic storm that crops up whenever we’re about to raid a ship. You know, your ship was hit by a storm too, right?”

 

“How does he do that?” Alfred asked, walking up to where Steve was to talk to him easier. “You know, the storm thing?”

 

“Frankly, I have no idea.” Steve shrugged. “Well, do you know that Arthur’s loved by the spirits, right?”

 

“Yeah, I heard that rumour.” Alfred nodded, “I heard that Arthur was born to be loved by the spirits. Is that why he can summon storms?”

 

“Well, you’re sort of half-right.” Steve chuckled. “In fact, his entire bloodline has always been loved by the spirits. Yours truly included.”

 

“Seriously? You’re related to him? But the two of you have different surnames…”

 

“I’m the Captain’s cousin,” Steve smiled, “Luke is, too. You see, the Kirklands have always been blessed by the Spirits to be able to use the Gift, and every Kirkland even has a gift given to him by his personal fairy godparent.”

 

“… Fairy godparent. Seriously?” Alfred snickered, “What, do they grant you wishes, or something?”

 

“No, ya daft fool, they’re our guardians. Except they’re fairies.” Steve rolled his eyes. “We all have certain fairy races that like us more than the others do. Take me, for example. The Fire Sprites gave me the ability to withstand extreme temperature changes. Luke has hyper intuition from the Sky Fae—that’s how we found you, by the way—and the list goes on and on, really.”

 

“… So Arthur has a gift as well.” Alfred said, and Steve nodded. “What is it?”

 

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” Arthur’s voice suddenly spoke up behind them, and the two men jolted in surprise. “Telling things to Alfred about me behind my back, Steve?”

 

“’Course not, cus,” Steve laughed, and Arthur glared at him, “Oh, drop it, he already knows,” he gestured at Alfred, “Anyway, I see with you up here, that our next target is over there?” he asked, pointing in the distance, where the storm was brewing.

 

“Yes.” Arthur nodded, “Let me take the helm, you and Alfred go ready our weapons. It’s almost time.”

 

“Aye,” Steve nodded, before looking at Alfred. “Come on, mate, to the brig for us two!” Alfred nodded, and followed Steve into the brig.

 

He helped the brunette prepare the swords, before turning his attention to his musket, loading it with bullets, and stuffing extra bags of bullets and gunpowder into his shirt, before slinging his musket over his shoulder.

 

“You ready, mate?” Steve asked, holding up his own weapons—a sword in his right hand, a spear slung over his shoulder.

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Alfred nodded, and suddenly an evil smirk crossed Steve’s face.

 

“Brilliant. To the battlefield we go, then.”

 

He turned on his heel, and behind him Alfred followed, a chill going down his spine.

 

_Is it just me, or are all Kirklands this frightening?_

 

\---

 

Smirking, Captain Arthur Kirkland stepped down on the back of a dead man, right arm akimbo, his Commodore pointed at the face of the ship’s captain, who was kept on his knees by Alfred (wearing a bandana across his nose and mouth, Luke had put it on him to avoid the crew on the other ship to recognize him), pointing his musket at the man’s nape.

 

“C-Captain Kirkland,” the man stuttered under Arthur’s hard gaze, his eyes flitting left and right, looking at his dead crew with dismay, “T-the rumours are true…”

 

“Every rumour has a grain of truth in it, after all,” the green-eyed pirate smirked, kicking the corpse underneath his peg leg aside carelessly, kneeling down and taking the man’s chin, forcing him to face him eye-to-eye. “Do you know what happens now?” he asked, his beautiful voice dripping with viscous, _seductive_ venom, and the captain trembled even more.

 

“You’re going to kill me,” he gasped, and Arthur pulled away, facing his back to him, laughing cruelly, tossing his face aside and knocking the man to the floor. Steve pulled him to his knees roughly.

 

“No, poppet,” Arthur cooed sickly sweetly, “I’ll give you a fate worse than death.” He looked at the man over his shoulder, leering as to mock him.

 

The fear in the man’s eyes were evident as Arthur turned, walking towards him. “But,” he lifted two slim, black-leather-and- _sexy_ -gloved fingers to his lips and he kissed the tips, before lowering it to the man’s lips. “It’s our _dirty_ little secret.” A seductive smirk on his face, he turned away from the obviously-yet-guiltily-excited man. “Tie him up and bring him to my quarters, Jones, Steve,” he waved at the two dismissively, “The rest, loot this sorry ship for all its worth! Leave nothing of worth behind!”

 

Red coat billowing behind him, Arthur stepped back onto the _Britannia,_ as the crew began to pillage the ship. Steve and Alfred grabbed some rope and began to tie the doomed man up.

 

“It’s totally unfair,” Alfred complained when they had finished tying the man up, complete with blindfold and gag. “How come he calls me by my last name but you get called by your first?” he pulled off his bandana-mask and pouted at Steve.

 

“Firstly, mate,” Steve began, pushing the man forward to get him to move. “I’m his first mate and his cousin.”

 

“I’m the fucking King of Spades,” Alfred whined, and their captive jolted in alarm, before turning to look at him pleadingly. “Aw, quit it. You’re going to die anyway,” Alfred shrugged him off, shoving him across the threshold to the _Britannia_. “I’m going to be his _mate_ , man.”

 

“You’re not so sure about that yet,” Steve laughed, “Give it a rest.”

 

Together, they led the captain to Arthur’s quarters, before pushing him and locking the door from outside.

 

“I’ll make sure of it, you know.” Alfred said to Steve, as the two of them walked back to deck. The brunette snickered and wiped the specks of blood on his cheek with his bloodstained shirt.

 

“I’ll be cheering you on, mate.” He said. “Oh, you got some on your sleeve.”

 

He licked his thumb and rubbed it at the speck of blood on Alfred’s sleeve, but Alfred shrugged him off.

 

“Leave it alone.” He said, “You know, after seeing Arthur earlier…” he looked up at the pirate standing at the helm, barking orders at the crew. “I can’t help but think, _damn_ , that guy knows how to push buttons.”

 

“He’s beautiful and he knows it,” Steve laughed, waving up at Luke, who had peered out from the crow’s nest down at them. “Almost done, mate?”

 

“Almost! Just a few more boxes!” Luke called down at him, and Steve nodded.

 

“We’d better help out, mate.” Steve elbowed Alfred, who was now just staring at Arthur. “You can stare all you like later at dinner.”

 

“But he eats in his quarters, right?” Alfred asked.

 

Steve winked. “Not when it’s my birthday.”

 

“It’s your birthday?” Alfred exclaimed. “Happy birthday!”

 

“Thanks,” Steve laughed, “Now, come on, let’s go get the stuff we’ll dine on later tonight. I get the bourbon!” he crowed, before running to help the crew.

 

“H-hey! I like that too!” Alfred laughed, before running after him, unbeknownst of Arthur staring at him, a small blush on the pirate’s face.

 

\---

 

“Happy birthday, Steve!” the crew chorused as they gathered around the sponge cake the cook had whipped up for the brunette after dinner (Steve thanked his lucky stars the ship they raided had sugar, flour, and best of all, _milk_ ) sitting on the table they had set up in the crew’s quarters (they had cleared the place of hammocks and crates to free some space). The room was dimly lit by a few lamps hung up on the wall, and a candle (lit up blazing orange-red-and-yellow, courtesy of Arthur’s magic) standing next to the sponge cake.

 

“Thanks, mates!” the brunette laughed brightly, as Alfred slung his arm around the brunette’s shoulders.

 

“Come on!” he cheered brightly, “Blow that candle out!”

 

“He will not,” Arthur raised his voice from the armchair he sat in not far from the table. Alfred had noted he had never left that spot since dinner, and during that time, he ate nothing, rejecting everything Steve, Luke or Alfred had offered him with a ‘ _no thank you, I’m not that hungry_ ,’ and a beautiful smile that had the ghost of worry—and was that fear Alfred saw in the beautiful man’s eyes?—that frayed Alfred’s nerves, at least until the sponge cake graced the table. “Do you know how long I took trying to get the flames to—”

 

He didn’t finish, when Steve (who was already _quite_ tipsy,) suddenly blew it out. He had raised his finger to scold the monarch, but it stopped halfway when he stopped, before falling limply at his side, the blonde pirate gaping at them like a fish out of water.

 

“Happy birthday to me!” Steve crowed, grabbing Luke (who was standing a little away from him) by his waist and pulling his brother close. The blonde boy flushed bright red and started squirming to get out of his brother’s grasp. Out of the corner of his eye, Alfred could see Arthur had smiled fondly, before leaning back into the armchair—posture perfectly straight, of course—before helping himself to a mug of ale one of the crewmen had handed him when he asked for it.

 

Alfred laughed as Steve helped himself to a slice of the sponge cake—a favourite he shared with the brunette—before getting one himself. Gleefully, like he was a child once again (not too long ago, actually, he thought to himself wistfully) he wolfed it down with big bites, and went to reach for another one with the intention of spoon-feeding it to a certain blonde pirate. He turned his head to where Arthur used to be—only to find the man had disappeared. The smile on his face disappeared, suddenly remembering the man’s behaviour during dinner, and quietly, he left the table to go look for the green-eyed pirate.

 

Sneaking up the stairs, Alfred saw Arthur enter his quarters, the door shutting behind him with a click. The blue-eyed monarch let out a sigh of relief when he reached the door—it was ajar, the knob was locked, yes, but the clasp of the doorknob wasn’t quite in the hole. Prior to Steve’s birthday celebration, Alfred had snuck to the captain’s room, stuffing a small piece of cloth he had torn from rags into the hole of the clutch, filling it so the knob’s latch wouldn’t enter. _Luke is the one with hyper-intuition, but since he trusts me now, I don’t think he anticipated this,_ he snickered quietly to himself as he quietly pushed the door open—he remembered to lubricate the hinges right after he had rigged the door to avoid being heard—silently grateful Arthur hadn’t noticed the cloth in the hole.

 

He peeked in through the gap he made to see Arthur sitting across the captured captain (free from his bonds, Alfred noted,), having dinner across a lit candle. Arthur had taken off his red coat, and it was now hanging neatly on the back of Arthur’s chair. They were talking, but Alfred couldn’t hear what they were saying. A pang suddenly shot across his heart, and Alfred’s eyes widened.

 

 _I can’t be getting **jealous** , am I?_ He thought, shocked, as he watched the two captains’ solemn conversation across the table. _This is ridiculous, if anything, I need **him** to be the one jealous over me! Right!_

 

Alfred shook his head to clear his thoughts, and suddenly he heard the scuffle of chairs against the floor, and Arthur’s peg leg thudding on the ground. The blue-eyed man peeked inside again to find the two had stood up in the middle of the man’s room, Arthur’s back to him, the blonde pirate’s slim, gloved fingers splayed over the man’s cheeks like thin-legged spiders.

 

“I’m sorry.” Arthur sighed, and the man’s hands came to rest on either side of Arthur’s waist, before pulling the blonde pirate closer.

 

“What are you sorry for, beautiful? Did you not say you wanted me?” the man asked, and Alfred resisted the urge to burst into the room and tear the man’s head off—not that he was jealous, of course, but because what nerve that man had to lay his hands on his future Queen like that!

 

Arthur gently shook his head, “Take a deep breath.” He said slightly shakily, “And hold it.”

 

The captain did as he was told as Arthur lowered his hands and head—

 

And suddenly, water came up behind him and possessed him like a ghost. Alfred’s eyes widened in horror, and he jolted in shock, almost knocking against the door, almost giving himself away. The captain’s eyes widened as he was engulfed by water, and the thrashed around slightly—

 

And suddenly he stilled.

 

“ _Arthur, my beautiful, beautiful pearl_ ,” an unfamiliar, garbled voice came from the waterlogged captain, “ _Let me kiss you, my darling._ ”

 

The blonde’s shoulders sagged, and he raised his head, looking up at the possessed man. Even though Alfred could not see his face, he knew Arthur was _far_ from being the water-spirit’s _darling_.

 

The water-man leaned down and kissed Arthur, (and at this, Alfred bristled in annoyance,) the hands on the pirate’s waist moving up the blonde’s sides, leaving a wet trail of seawater up Arthur’s white shirt until it reached Arthur’s cravat, before moving up Arthur’s neck, coming to cup the pirate’s cheeks, wetting them with seawater.

 

They parted, the blonde pirate panting as he wiped his mouth, wet with seawater.

 

“ _Ah, finally, again, I can touch you, my dear._ ” The garbled voice said to Arthur, pulling at the captain’s cravat, tugging it off Arthur’s thin neck, before unbuttoning the blonde’s shirt. “ _Perhaps tonight I can make you mine_.”

 

“I’d like to see you try,” Arthur spat at him, batting his hand away from his shirt, but the man only laughed—garbled because of the water. “You dirty pervert.”

 

“ _My love for you is pure, my dear._ ” The man leaned down as he grabbed hold of Arthur’s hands, pulling him to the wall and pinning him against it, before kissing the blonde’s soft creamy white collarbone. Arthur hissed and pulled away, but the man held him firmly. “ _Hundreds of  years ago, you had given yourself to me so willingly…_ ” he murmured against Arthur’s skin that had now flushed pinkish red, “ _I had loved you so back then, and until now, now that I have found you again after so long… You’re so much more beautiful than before…_ _My Arthur._ ”

 

“I-I’m not yours, damn it,” Arthur gasped as the man continued to molest him against the wall, pressing against him tightly.

 

“ _You are, my dear, and always will be._ ” The man replied, “ _The Sea Queen. **My** Queen. Isn’t that lovely, my dear? Join me in my palace under the sea…_”

 

“Take my brother Dean, then, if you want a bitch under the sea,” Arthur managed to snap at him venomously. “I’m sure he’d actually be able to breathe underwater, not like me.”

 

“ _Oh, but it has to be you, beautiful, your brother is but a bother, he is an outsider,_ ” the man replied, “ _Your blood is saturated with royal blood, my dear, he does not—_ “

 

“Stop bringing back my ancestors, damn it,” Arthur swore, struggling against the man’s grip. “We are, and always will be, from the Kingdom of Spades, your anger with Diamonds is not our respon—“

 

“ _But Arthur, you were once the great Queen of Diamonds,_ ” the man said, “ _Remember your lineage, my dear. That was how you met me.”_

 

“I am not _your_ Queen Arthur your delusional mind has convinced yourself I am!” Arthur yelled at him, but suddenly, his eyes widened when suddenly the man’s hand cupped his crotch.

 

“ _S-Sea King_!” he gasped angrily, flushing red, “Unhand me!”

 

“ _The captain you captured is enduring,_ ” the Sea King commented, ignoring him, “ _It seems I may be able to claim you tonight._ ”

 

Alfred, gripped the doorway so hard it splintered, injuring his hand, but he didn’t care.

 

“I swear, if he lays his salty little—!”

 

“Stop!” Arthur gasped almost _pleadingly_ , (it was rather odd watching such a frightening pirate king reduced to a pleading, beautiful _sexy_ mess—Alfred mentally slapped himself) squirming away from the Sea King. “D-don’t do this—!”

 

The Sea King kissed him to silence him, and began to undress the blonde—

 

When suddenly the body began to buckle, struggle, panic—it was dying.

 

The Sea King pulled away from Arthur, alarmed, and Arthur slumped down to his knees, panting as tears stung the corners of his eyes.

 

“ _He is dying,_ ” the spirit commented, uncaring. “ _Well then. Until next time, my dear Arthur._ ”

 

Suddenly the body stilled and fell face-first to the floor. The water left him and drained down the gaps between the planks of the floor.

 

Alfred released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and he looked at Arthur to find the pirate captain didn’t move from his spot.

 

He was about to leave, when suddenly he saw Arthur do something he didn’t expect the captain to do—

 

Arthur curled up, hugging his knees to his chest, and sobbed.

 

At the sight of Arthur, Alfred felt a pang of sadness in his chest, and his thoughts were in confliction.

 

_To enter or not to enter?_

 

“Hey? Alfred? Where are you? Steve’s looking for you!” Luke’s voice suddenly snapped him out of his daze, and reluctantly, he made up his mind.

 

He moved away from the door, and walked back to the brig, putting on a fake smile for the little boy who had climbed up to look for him.

 

“Sorry, I just had to go take care of the roses, the Captain told me to.” He lied, and Luke looked up at him.

 

“… Something’s telling me you’re lying to me.”

 

Alfred’s eyes widened and he remembered the gift the little boy had. He began to panic, thinking of what to say—when suddenly Luke smiled sadly.

 

“But since I saw you coming from the Captain’s room,” Here, Alfred realized that his lie didn’t even need to be detected by the little boy’s intuition, the roses’ room was in the opposite direction of the Captain’s quarters, “I will not ask anything. Now come on, before Steve starts to strip people again.”

 

Alfred chuckled weakly, and nodded, before following after the boy.

 

_So that’s Arthur’s dirty little secret. Looks like someone needs a hero._

 

A small grin cross the monarch’s face.

 

_And I know **just** the guy._


	8. Let Me Be Your Wings

After making sure every single one of the _Britannia_ ’s crew was totally drunk, Alfred made his way to the deck  to clear his thoughts (slightly clouded by alcohol, he bitterly noted, he himself had almost gotten drunk).

 

Upon opening the door, however, he saw Arthur standing at the wooden railings, wistfully staring out at the dark horizon. The man didn’t have his signature red coat with him. Alfred almost spoke to let himself be known, when he noticed something shimmering behind the pirate’s back. Squinting slightly, Alfred realised that there was something glimmering and transparent on the man’s back.

 

Quietly, he crept out onto the deck and he hid behind the stairs leading up to the upper deck. There he got a better view of what it was—a pair of transparent fairy wings. Running up the transparent film were red blood vessels that seemed to throb with life. The man’s eyes widened, and suddenly they disappeared—Arthur had shifted slightly, turning around to search for something. Alfred looked down to realise he had knocked over a bucket.

 

He swore to himself as Arthur drew his sword, a scowl crossing his beautiful face.

 

“Who’s there?” he demanded, and Alfred sighed, raising his hands and stepping out from behind the stairs.

 

“It’s just me,” he smiled at the pirate, and Arthur gave him a strange look, lowering his sword.

 

“I thought you lot were sleeping in the quarters, wasted.” He stated as Alfred walked towards him.

 

“Well, _I’m_ not.” He chuckled, before standing beside Arthur at the railing, leaning on it slightly as he looked at the blonde, who returned to looking over the railings and at the dark horizon. Alfred noted that Arthur’s clothes were still slightly wet. Had he been here ever since… _that_?

 

“Well, Captain,” Alfred spoke, realizing that he couldn’t see the man’s fairy wings again. “I was wondering about that captain we captured earlier—“

 

“Do not mention that,” Arthur venomously spat at him, acid in his bright green eye, alarming Alfred as he turned his head to face him. In the light of the full moon above them, the blue-eyed monarch realised that there were also tear tracks that ran down the man’s right cheek. “Do _not_ ask about that.”

 

“I won’t,” Alfred nodded, and Arthur turned back to look at the horizon, before letting out a sigh. “Hey, Arthur…”

 

“It’s _Captain_ to you, you wanker—” Arthur turned to scold him, when Alfred suddenly reached out to him and cupped his cheeks in his hands. The taller blonde frowned upon feeling the tracks of tears still on the pirate’s cheek as under his touch they flushed pink and warmed up. “Wh-what are you doing, you git, l-let me go—mmph!”

 

Alfred leaned in and kissed the blonde, silencing him, before pulling away to find Arthur’s cheeks had gotten warmer. Gently, he ran the pads of his war-calloused thumb across Arthur’s cheek to wipe the tear tracks away.

 

“Have you been crying?” he asked gently, despite already knowing the answer.

 

Arthur spluttered, flustered, as his cheeks grew a deeper shade of red. “Wh-what are you talking about, I do not—”

 

Suddenly Alfred pulled the pirate into a hug tightly against his chest, and Arthur’s eyes widened.

 

“A-Alfred…”

 

“Oh, who am I kidding, I know why you’re crying,” he said into the pirate’s ear, earning him a gasp of shock from the smaller man. “It’s the Sea King, isn’t it?”

 

Arthur’s eyes widened and he froze in Alfred’s embrace.

 

“H-how… did… you know…?”

 

“I saw everything, what happened in your room tonight. Does the same thing happen every time you raid a ship?” Alfred asked. He was not met with an answer, but Arthur gingerly wrapped his arms around the man’s torso, and Alfred felt his shoulder getting wet. “Does he always do this to you? This… this _farce_ he calls his love for you?”

 

“I have to do it, Alfred… I…” Arthur choked between sobs, “I’m… I’m sorry. I can’t…” he pulled away, but Alfred held onto him, looking into the smaller blonde’s eyes, boring into them with his own.

 

“I know to you, this may be crazy.” Arthur lowered his head and eyelid, his long eyelashes sloping downwards elegantly as he hid his eye. “You just met me, but look at me.” Gently, he lifted Arthur’s face to face him again, and he smiled at the pirate. “Tell me, maybe?”

 

Arthur took a shuddering breath, and above them the sails gently swayed in the breeze. It was a momentary flash, but a ray of moonlight passed them, and in that moment Alfred caught sight of the fairy wings once more.

 

“The name Arthur Kirkland has been passed down my family for generations,” he said after a moment, “The original Arthur Kirkland was a poor young man from Spades,” he looked up at Alfred, an unreadable expression on his beautiful face. “A King fell in love with him, the King of Diamonds, and although the King already had his Queen, he still took Arthur to Diamonds with him and married him.”

 

\---

 

Arthur Kirkland, dearly loved by the King of Diamonds, was taught the art of the sword, and how to read and write. He also learnt the tricks and trade of sailing, and more, until not only was he beautiful, but was also extremely intelligent and an excellent seafarer.

 

Suddenly, one day the Queen had died at sea, and so Arthur took her place on the throne beside the King. The two couldn’t be happier, but behind them, rumours spread about how it was probably Arthur who had murdered the Queen to take her place.

 

The King and his now-Queen ignored the hushed whispers behind their backs, and when it came to the time the Queen was to bear the King his heir, the Great Spirits came to visit them to bless their child, for the Kirklands have always been loved by the spirits.

 

The Sky Captain was there, and so were the Fire Queen, Mother Forest, and the Sea King, rulers of the four races of the Spirits.

 

What should have been an innocent blessing for the newborn soon became poisoned with malice.

 

The Sea King, smitten with Arthur’s beauty and skills at sea, desired him as his own, and so snuck into the Queen’s chambers on the night of the blessing and posed as his husband.

 

Arthur, not thinking it was an impostor, welcomed him into his bed, but they were caught, and the King, in a fit of broken-hearted rage, banished his Queen to the seas, never to return to land again, and their child to the Kingdom of Spades, where Arthur had come from.

 

Arthur, heart broken and pride bruised, swore vengeance on the Kingdom of Diamonds and soon became a bloodthirsty pirate, pillaging ships carrying vital supplies to the Kingdom.

 

The Sea King was at his side the entire time, and although Arthur hated the spirit with all his body, he reluctantly accepted the help the smitten spirit offered him—control over storms and he Kraken. With those two, the dreaded pirate Captain Arthur Kirkland became unstoppable.

 

But a mother will always be a mother, and Arthur found himself longing for the company of his child. The Sky Fae, taking pity on the poor creature, gave the pirate a chance to escape his banishment at sea, disappear from the sight of the lustful Sea King, and reunited mother and son in the Kingdom of Spades.

 

From then on, seafaring has been passed down generations of Kirklands, the name of the pirate and the legacy, as well, in order to attain the revenge Arthur had sworn against the Kingdom of Diamonds.

 

\---

 

“So, you’ve been passing this name down for generations.” Alfred said, “Without the Sea King ever finding out. What happened now? Why is your generation so different?”

 

Arthur sighed, “My guess is as good as yours,” his shoulders slumped down slightly. “Satisfied now, _King_?”

 

“Very,” Alfred chuckled, “But now, onto another matter at hand.” Gently, he reached out to behind Arthur at the space behind the pirate, and the smaller blonde’s eyes widened.

 

“W-wait! Y-you saw?” Arthur stuttered, grabbing hold of Alfred’s hand, blushing. “M-my…”

 

“So I wasn’t hallucinating,” Alfred smirked, “You have wings?”

 

“Yes…” Arthur sighed, pulling away from Alfred to step into the moonlight. Once bathed with the moon’s light, his wings shimmered into view.

 

Alfred’s jaw fell and he stepped forward, closer to Arthur. “They’re beautiful.” He softly said, leaning over and brushing his fingers over their scaly texture. “Is this one of the gifts the fairies gave you?”

 

“Yes.” Arthur nodded, “And the other one…” he fell silent, blushing.

 

“Let me guess,” Alfred chuckled, “Your beauty?” he said jokingly.

 

“Yes,” Arthur replied, and Alfred stared at him. “I’m serious! Don’t look at me like that!”

 

Alfred suddenly laughed, and Arthur scowled at him.

 

“I’m going to leave if you don’t hold your tongue, wanker.” Arthur threatened, and Alfred forced himself to calm down.

 

“Yeah, yeah.” The taller blonde waved his hand at him, “But that’s great, you know that gift of yours would be totally great in—”

 

“Some foolish King’s court, I know,” Arthur cut him off, rolling his eyes. “It’s a bloody useless gift to have at sea, and it’s worse since this is the face the original Arthur Kirkland had, so now the Sea King has—”

 

“Ever consider using that gift of yours; let’s say, in my court, perhaps?” Alfred asked coolly, and Arthur paused.

 

“Alfred… are you asking me to marry you?”

 

“Are you telling me you want to?”

 

Arthur flushed bright red, and Alfred smiled, before kneeling down in front of the blonde pirate, holding Arthur’s smaller hands in his.

 

“Time to ask you properly, then.” He smiled, and Arthur’s eyes welled up with tears.

 

“Captain Arthur Kirkland, will you marry me and be my Queen?”

 

 _Yes!_ , Arthur’s mind screamed at himself, but he couldn’t find the voice to speak as a thought—or is it a memory?—flashed through his mind:

 

_The man dressed in regal yellows, gold and diamonds knelt down._

_“Arthur Kirkland of England, hailing from the Kingdom of Spades, will you marry me and be my Queen?”_

 

_The blonde’s eyes welled up with tears and he lunged forward into the man’s embrace._

_“I do!”_

“Arthur?” Alfred asked, gently stroking the hands in his. “If you’re still frightened, you can tell me your answer later,” he said, getting up, not breaking eye contact with the pirate. “I can wait.”

 

Arthur frowned, “I-I’m sorry, I…”

 

“Don’t make decisions hastily,” Alfred chuckled, “Look where it got me.” he grinned down at Arthur, “Not that I’m complaining, of course, but you get the idea.”

 

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Arthur confessed, and Alfred smiled and shrugged it off.

 

“I’m willing to wait.” He said, before caressing Arthur’s wings once more. “For now… can you fly with these?”

 

“Of course, git,” Arthur said, albeit with a little less venom than before. “… W-would you… would you…” he lowered his head and averted his eyes, the blush on his cheeks spreading to his ears, dyeing them bright red.

 

Alfred raised an eyebrow and cocked his head slightly.

 

“Would I what, Arthur?”

 

“W-would you like to fly with me?” he asked, looking up at Alfred, thoroughly embarrassed. “I-I heard from Steve that you had preferred the sky rather than the sea…”

 

Alfred blinked down at the pirate. He remembered telling Steve about that the night before, and he had instructed the man to only tell Arthur if he asked.

 

_“Why, mate?” Steve asked, rocking his hammock tied above Alfred’s. “Wouldn’t it be nicer if he knew about it, you know, to get to know you better?”_

_“Just a little insurance.” Alfred chuckled up at his friend. “You know, just to see if he thinks about me… even just a little.”_

_“I know you already told me you don’t have to be in love with each other, mate,” Steve leaned down to look at Alfred. “But honestly, right now, you certainly are acting like you are.”_

_“Am not.” Alfred scoffed up at the brunette. “I’m just checking if he’s falling for me yet.”_

_“Yeah, sure.” Steve snickered, before lying back. “Well, anyway. Night!”_

“… You asked him?” he asked Arthur, and the blush on the pirate’s cheeks reddened.

 

“I-it’s not like I was thinking about you or anything!” he stuttered, turning his face away from Alfred, his wings fluttering in annoyance as he crossed his arms. “L-look, let’s just fly, okay?”

 

Alfred chuckled, nodding, opening his arms out to Arthur. “Let’s fly.”

 

Arthur looked back at him shyly, before stepping into Alfred’s arms, his arms wrapping around Alfred’s torso gingerly. He began to softly glow.

 

“Just tell me something, Alfred.” Arthur murmured, leaning up to whisper into the man’s ear. “Do you believe in fairies?”

 

For a moment, Alfred considered the thought. A few years ago, if he was asked that question during his conquests of the Northern Forests, he would immediately have shot down the question with a sound, resolute no, but now that he was holding Arthur in his arms, glowing softly, wings raised like a still transparent butterfly, so serene, elegant, _beautiful_ heavenly, he took a moment to think about his answer.

 

Arthur pulled away from Alfred’s ear, looking into his eyes with his only one. The green orb looked like a glimmering emerald in the soft golden glow emanating from Arthur’s body, and Alfred couldn’t help but smile. Gently, he caressed the blonde’s cheek and brought their faces together, their foreheads touching.

 

A sigh escaped his lips and he could almost see it— _the_ question had just been asked, and the two of them would be standing together at the end of the aisle through the middle of the throne room, Arthur’s hands on top of his, trembling slightly, as Saphira Rose petals floated around the air around them, dyeing the wind blowing around them hues of blue and white, blue like the blue bricks of the castle around them, blue like Alfred’s eyes.

 

Across him would be Arthur, face hidden behind a pure white veil, the most beautiful smile on his face, missing eye and all, and Alfred would think to himself that he was luckiest man in all of Fantasia. That said, of course his answer would be obvious.

 

“I do.”

 

The smile that graced Arthur’s face was the most beautiful thing Alfred had ever seen, and soon he found himself doubting his words to Steve as Arthur leaned up, standing up on the tip of his good foot, before kissing the taller man gently. Smiling gently into the kiss, Alfred kissed back—

 

And suddenly he felt the both of them take flight. His eyes widened, and Arthur pulled away, shyly blushing as turned his face away from Alfred.

 

“We’re flying,” Alfred breathed, holding onto Arthur tightly as felt his feet lift off the ground, he himself glowing a soft gold hue as they flew high up, past the crow’s nest, and into the clouds above the _Britannia_ , where the full moon came into view. A smile spread across his face and his eyes lit up as he hugged the pirate tightly to his torso, both in fear of falling and in delight. “We’re really flying!”

 

“Yes,” Arthur smiled at him, “You can let go of one of my hands, if you’d like.” He said, loosening his arms around the monarch’s torso.

 

Slowly, Alfred grasped Arthur’s left hand in his right, before letting go of his other hand, and before he knew it, he was floating right next to Arthur, as they flew over the clouds, hand in hand.

 

Alfred couldn’t contain the joy about to burst out of his chest.

 

“This is _amazing_!” he cheered, ecstatic; as he lowered his hand into a cloud, feeling the water droplets in it touch his skin like mist. “It has always been my dream to fly!”

 

Arthur smiled at him and pulled his hand, catching his attention.

 

“Arthur?”

 

“Let me show you what I can do.” He smiled, before flying high, taking Alfred with him, the blonde monarch laughing brightly as Arthur looped him through clouds, did somersaults with him, shot through the sky like birds, flying fast—and then slow, delighting the younger man.

 

Arthur chuckled at Alfred’s thrilled expression and led him down—through a cloud, of course, making Alfred laugh in glee—to look at the _Britannia_ from above, gently swaying in the gentle lap of the waves under it, lit up only by the light of the moon.

 

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Arthur asked, smiling gently as he and Alfred slowed to hover above the magnificent ship.

 

“Yeah, but she’s not as beautiful as you are,” Alfred smiled at Arthur, and the blonde pirate flushed, his fluttering wings getting slightly more rapid. “You know, I honestly didn’t think you’d be this beautiful,” he confessed, floating closer to Arthur, hand still in his, his free hand snaking around to Arthur’s nape, and pulling the pirate close, their foreheads touching once again. “And honestly, if only I had known… I don’t know if I would still have met you.” Slowly he let go of Arthur’s left hand and snaked his freed hand around the blonde’s waist, pulling him close. Almost automatically, Arthur’s hands came to a rest on Alfred’s shoulders.

 

“If you knew I was beautiful, you’d leave to never see me again?” Arthur chuckled, “That’s the first time I’ve heard such a preposterous thing.”

 

Alfred laughed, “I’m pretty silly, aren’t I?”

 

“Mm, yes,” Arthur hummed, chuckling as he pulled slightly away, before planting a soft kiss on the monarch’s forehead. “But you’re my silly King.”

 

Alfred’s eyes widened and he looked at Arthur. “Did you just call me yours, darling?”

 

“Maybe, love?” Arthur chuckled, before suddenly squirming out of Alfred’s grip. The monarch’s golden glow disappeared and before he could let out a scream, he hurtled down towards the sea. Above him, Arthur laughed, before diving down to catch the blonde, who held on to him with a vice-hard grip around his waist as the golden glow around his body returned.

 

They were now only a few feet away from the deck of the _Britannia_ , Alfred clinging onto Arthur tightly as the pirate floated in the air, laughing.

 

“Do not do that again,” Alfred threatened the pirate, but that did nothing to quell Arthur’s laughter. “Hey!”

 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur managed to say between guffaws, “I just had to do that!”

 

“Well, you know what? Your eyebrows are pretty huge!” Alfred yelled back at him, amused at how he sounded like he used to when he was much younger.

 

“D-don’t insult my eyebrows!” Arthur spluttered, but Alfred laughed him off, leaning up to cup his cheek in one hand. The blonde pirate fell silent as Alfred floated up to look him eye-to-eye.

 

“You know what,” he said, leaning close. “I think… I’m…” he leaned in and pressed their lips together, and Arthur’s eyes widened at how gently Alfred did so. Without him realising it, Arthur’s eyes slid shut and his arms snaked around the back of Alfred’s neck and he began to kiss back. Alfred smiled into the kiss and deepened it—

 

And suddenly thousands of images flashed through Arthur’s mind, disorienting him as a torrent of thoughts—memories?—flooded his mind, stealing his attention away from controlling his wings. They suddenly stopped, and the two of them fell hard onto the deck, the two blondes tumbling over each other.

 

Groaning in pain, Alfred sat up to find Arthur had landed on top of him, also pained, his wings lowered as he sat up on Alfred’s lap. The pirate had a disoriented look on his face, and Alfred began to laugh, sitting up and pulling Arthur close to his chest.

 

“Wh-what’s so funny?” Arthur stuttered as he shook his head to clear it, looking up at Alfred.

 

“I can’t believe we fell down like that,” Alfred snickered, and Arthur blinked at him for a moment, before finally laughing along with him, their laughs echoing around the deck.

 

“Indeed,” Arthur chuckled as they calmed down. “That was horridly embarrassing of me.”

 

“Yeah, well, Arthur.” Alfred grinned, leaning close to the pirate captain’s face. “You kissed me back up there.”

 

“S-so I did,” Arthur stuttered, “And what of it, git?”

 

“So you _do_ want me.” Alfred winked at him, and Arthur spluttered, flustered.

 

“I-I-I…” Alfred gave him an unbelieving glance, and he sighed, defeated. “Oh, fine. So what if I do? Not like I _do_ want you, you o-overconfident, stupid, a-arrogant,” Arthur’s annoyed tone wavered, “Reckless, charming, _absolutely bloody wonderful_ , loveable wanker!”

 

His face flushed red, Arthur fell silent, realising he had just shouted at the top of his lungs at the young King, panting as he caught his breath.

 

A large grin spread across Alfred’s face. “So that’s a confession, right?” he said, and Arthur’s eyes widened. Had he really said that Alfred was a, ‘reckless, charming, _absolutely bloody wonderful_ , loveable wanker’? The shocked pirate slapped his hands over his mouth and made a move to stand up—when Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist, robbing him of his escape.

 

“Well, it’s my turn.” He smiled sheepishly at Arthur. “Honestly, I had told Steve I really didn’t need to be in love with you to make you my Queen. I had planned on just wooing you here and then taking you home so I can get the crown, become the kingdom’s king properly, and get my powers without them deteriorating… until I met you that day in the brig.”

 

He scratched the back of his head, feeling a blush coming onto his cheeks. “Ever since I was younger, all I knew was to take and to take, without considering the consequences, but now… I found the urge to be the one giving this time… but you beat me to it.”

 

“I what?” Arthur asked, slightly offended.

 

Alfred chuckled and brought his face close to Arthur’s so their foreheads touched. “You stole my heart before I could give it to you.” He smiled, and the blush on Arthur’s cheeks darkened. “So, now I’m formally giving it to you, well, at least, whatever’s left of it that hasn’t already been stolen by you.” He snickered.

 

“A-Alfred…”

 

“I fell in love with you, Arthur.” He gently said, caressing Arthur’s small hands in his. “And really, it would make me the happiest man in the world if you came back to Spades with me, marry me and stay with me forever as my Queen, my wife, my _Arthur._ ” He looked at the blonde, pleading softly with his eyes.

 

Arthur averted his eyes and lowered his head. “… You too.” He mumbled.

 

“What? I can’t hear you, Arthur.” Alfred frowned slightly, lifting Arthur’s chin.

 

“I said I love you too, you git.” Arthur whined, beating weakly at Alfred’s hands cupping his. “Ever since the day I met you in my ship’s brig.”

 

Smiling happily, Alfred cupped Arthur’s cheeks in his hands and kissed him gently, lovingly, joy spilling out in torrents in his chest, finally having something that was truly _his,_ his lover, his dear, dear _Arthur._

 


	9. Bet of a Lifetime

 

Suddenly, the sea’s waves became violent, rocking the ship left and right dangerously, knocking Arthur into Alfred’s arms, forcing the two apart. Suddenly fear gripped Arthur; he knew this situation far too well.

 

“Alfred!” he screamed, grabbing the monarch’s shirt, “I-it’s the Sea King! Y-you have to leave--!”

 

“I’m not going anywhere without you, Arthur.” He said sternly, making the blonde pirate falter slightly as the monarch hugged him protectively close to himself (Alfred carefully kept his arm away from Arthur’s wings) as he stood up, pulling Arthur with him onto his feet.

 

“ _The King of Spades._ ” The disembodied voice of the Great Spirit, garbled, thundered from underneath a rising column of water, thunder ringing around them deafeningly. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and he cupped his hands over his ears, scooting closer to Alfred’s torso. Steve and Luke burst out of the door leading to the brig, alarmed looks on their faces upon seeing the storm being brewed by the Sea King. “ _I knew I smelled a rat. Unhand Arthur this instant, and I shall not harm you._ ”

 

“Try me.” Alfred smirked up at the Great Spirit, now towering high over his head. The monarch stood his ground, posture unwavering, the cocky glint in his eyes challenging the Sea King like the monarch he is. “Steve! Secure the lines! Don’t let the _Britannia_ sink! Luke! Round up whoever is awake and help Steve out!” he yelled over the roar of the waves as rain started pouring down on them heavily.

 

“Aye!” the brothers chorused, and Steve got to climbing the nets up the mast to tie up the sails, climbing fast like a monkey as Luke dived back into the door to call for help.

 

“ _I will not harm this ship if you let go of my Arthur._ ” The Sea King said, and the rain grew in intensity. Above him, Alfred heard Steve swear as he tried to catch the flapping ropes in the strong winds.

 

Alfred heard Arthur whimper slightly in his arms, and reassuringly, he gripped the smaller blonde’s shoulder.

 

“Never! You dirty old pervert, he didn’t even want you, and neither did the Arthur a long time ago!” Alfred yelled at the spirit.

 

“ _Do not make me kill you, King. I am much stronger than you men_.”

 

“Try me,” Alfred smirked, and Arthur gripped his collar.

 

“Are you a fool?” he hissed at the young monarch, “You have no idea what the Sea King can do—”

 

“Have some faith in me, babe.” Alfred smiled down at Arthur, before turning his attention to the Sea King. “Tell you what, let’s have a bet!”

 

“ _A bet?_ ” the Sea King echoed, amused, and the storm died down a little. Above Alfred, Steve let out a sigh of relief as he finally managed to tie down the min sail, just as Luke returned to the deck with a handful of the crew (all seemingly doused into soberness by a bucket of cold water) to help out his brother. “ _And what kind of bet do you think you can strike with me, you foolish human?_ ”

 

“If I manage to kill the Kraken, you will let Arthur, his crew, and all ships from all four Kingdoms go and he shall return with me to Spades and become my Queen,” Arthur’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest, tugging at Alfred’s shirt, but the monarch gently shushed him. “If I can’t, then you can kill me—”

 

“No!” Arthur gasped, cutting him off, “I-if he can’t defeat the Kraken, you will return him to Spades, and I… I’ll marry you and become your Queen instead.” Arthur said, looking up at the Sea King, trembling slightly.

 

“A-Arthur! What are you talking about?!” Alfred yelled at him, and Arthur looked at him, a hard look on his face.

 

“If you die, your people will be without a King. What about your subjects, Alfred? Their deaths certainly aren’t worth my hand in marriage, is it?” he said in a scolding tone, “Be rational, Alfred. You are a King.” He smiled sadly, “And I am still a man, a Blessed, yes, but still a man. I can take a beating.”

 

Alfred gaped at him, and Arthur gave him an encouraging look.

 

“ _Well, then. Such an interesting offer, and one I cannot refuse._ ” The Sea King chuckled darkly. “ _Queen Arthur, the Sea Queen. I quite like the sound of that._ ”

 

“… Do we have a deal, then, Sea King?” Arthur asked, reassuringly squeezing Alfred’s hand. “Seal it with a Vow.”

 

“ _A deal_ ,” the spirit agreed, and a cross of light appeared across the water column. “ _I swear to uphold these conditions, under a Vow_.” He said, “ _May the seas dry up and may I die should I break it._ ”

 

“We swear as well,” Arthur spoke up, drawing a cross over his heart and Alfred’s, “To uphold these conditions under a Vow.” The cross Arthur drew across their chests lit up, alarming Alfred, “May our love die should we break it.”

 

The Sea King chuckled darkly, and the storm calmed, the seas stilling just as it used to before the arrival of the Great Spirit.

 

“ _Until the day we wed, my dear Arthur,_ ” he bade, before the water column disappeared into the sea.

 

Alfred and Arthur looked at each other, before Alfred pulled the blonde into a tight, possessive, loving, desperate, _frightened_ , embrace, the monarch’s body trembling against Arthur’s smaller body.

 

“Why could you do something stupid like that,” Arthur muttered, stroking Alfred’s golden locks, “Now you are stuck with an impossible task, and just to win my hand in marriage?”

 

“People do stupid things for love,” Alfred simply said, “Why did you say you’d marry him if I lost? I’d rather die than watch you suffer forever under the sea, never to see the beautiful sky ever again.”

 

“A small price to pay,” Arthur replied, before pulling away from Alfred. “Now, genius, how do you suppose we find the Kraken? It won’t come at my beck and call, now _especially_ since you want to kill it.”

 

“I’ve got a suggestion,” Steve spoke up, jumping down from the nearby mast rope ladder next to them as Luke and the rest of the crew finished up what they were doing and walked up to the two blondes. “How ‘bout we head back to Spades?”

 

“What are you intending we do there?” Arthur snapped at him, “If Alfred and I step on land, the Vow will—”

 

“Hold it there, babe,” Alfred cut him off, looking at Steve, urging him to go on. “What are you implying?”

 

“Well, there always seems to be um, _unfortunate_ , accidents at sea when Captain Kirkland steps foot on a port.” Steve smirked, and suddenly an eagle’s cry echoed around them, and Alfred’s eyes widened in recognition.

 

“Liberty!” he gasped his pet eagle’s name, as the bald eagle in question flew down to them and landed on Steve’s shoulder. The brunette reached for the bird’s leg and removed the letter tied to it. “H-hey, wait a sec! How come you’re getting messages from Liberty? The correspondence is only between me and—”

 

“The Jack of Spades, Wang Yao.” Steve cut him off, smirking at him as he read the letter. “You’re in luck, Alfred. It seems the Kraken’s been spotted off the southern coasts of Spades.”

 

“You’ve been in contact with the Jack of Spades?” Arthur asked his cousin, shocked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“Yao told me not to until absolutely necessary.” Steve replied, “We’ve been in contact the night Alfred came to the ship in the cargo box.”

 

“So you knew I was the extra crewmate the entire time, and you never bothered to give me away?” Alfred blinked. Liberty cawed at Steve before she flew to her master’s shoulder, affectionately nipping at Alfred’s stray lock of hair.

 

“Yeah, I guess.” Steve laughed, “I told Luke about it after he found you, though. I thought he needed practice with his hyper-intuition.”

 

The blonde boy in question lightly punched his brother’s arm. “I got real mad at him for that,” he added. “But now, we have to head back to Spades if we want to catch that Kraken.” He looked up at Alfred. “Don’t think we all heard your sweet little moment up here a while ago.” The two blondes flushed bright red in embarrassment and he chuckled.  “On behalf of the crew, I’d like to tell you, Alfred, we’ll support you all the way.” Steve grinned next to his brother.

 

“And that means, you too, cus,” he smiled at Arthur, “We’re going to make sure you don’t _die_ leaving this ship to me.” he winked at Arthur, and the green-eyed pirate gaped them.

 

“You guys,” Alfred grinned, shaking his head fondly, “You little tricksters.”

 

“And you love it.” Steve winked. “But for now, let’s get goin’! The Kraken won’t wait forever, you know!”

 

“Aye!” Alfred cheered, smiling brightly. “Men, to your stations, we’re heading straight to Spades, full speed ahead!”

 

“Aye!” the crew chorused, rushing to their places, Steve at the helm of it all.

 

Alfred turned to address Arthur, who had been dazed at his cousins’ display of cunning. “Well, well,” he smiled at the blonde pirate, catching his attention. “They certainly learned well.”

 

A fond smile spread across Arthur’s face and he nodded. “Yes, that they did.” He replied.

 

Alfred offered his hand to Arthur. “We have some unfinished business to take care of,” he said, as Arthur took his hand. “Mainly, that comrade of yours lying dead in your quarters, Captain.”

 

Arthur nodded solemnly, his face grim, and he followed Alfred inside, the two of them heading straight to the man’s quarters.

 

Together, in complete silence, they picked up the dead captain’s body and headed to the back of Arthur’s room, where a balcony jutting out the back of the _Britannia_ was.

 

They said their goodbyes quietly, Arthur apologising for the grief he had caused, before casting a spell on the body. A glowing flower sprouted out of the dead man’s chest. Gently, Arthur planted a soft kiss on each of its petals before the two of them dropped the man’s body into the sea. In sombre silence, the two blondes headed back into Arthur’s room and they sat down next to each other on the pirate’s bed. The three candles around them extinguished by themselves, the only light left in the room the moonlight streaming in from the window across Arthur’s bed and the open balcony doors.

 

Alfred held Arthur’s knee comfortingly, and Arthur nodded his thanks, scooting closer to Alfred, their thighs pressed against each other, arms touching. The blonde pirate rested his head on Alfred’s shoulder and let out a tired sigh. The blue-eyed monarch offhandedly noted he couldn’t see Arthur’s wings in the darkness of the man’s room.

 

They stayed silent for a moment, before Arthur lifted his head from Alfred’s shoulder to look at him.

 

“You know, damning the consequences to hell,” he spoke up, “I would have said yes immediately when you asked me to marry you.”

 

“You never considered saying no?” Alfred asked.

 

“Never.” Arthur replied.

 

“… So, you will marry me?”

 

“You should kill the Kraken first,” Arthur chuckled, and Alfred smiled, before brushing his lips against Arthur’s lightly. “Then I can worry about what to wear when I say _I do_.”

 

“I’ve already said mine,” Alfred chuckled, remembering what he said when they flew. “I can’t wait to hear yours.”

 

Arthur sighed. “Eventually.” He nodded.

 

“I have a question. How come I can’t see your wings now?” Alfred felt for them behind Arthur, but he felt nothing. “I can’t feel them now, either.”

 

“They only appear in moonlight or sunlight.” Arthur explained, shifting slightly to get more comfortable against Alfred. “They’re not attached to me, though, they just float there… but they’re still a part of me.”

 

“I see.” Alfred murmured, burying his face in Arthur’s soft hair, inhaling the pirate’s rosy scent. “So you keep them hidden under your red coat, huh.”

 

“Yes,” Arthur handed him the coat (he had it draped over his legs like a blanket) and Alfred felt the velvet of the coat, and his fingers ghosted over the embroidered vines of gold down the sleeves, silently admiring the handiwork. Arthur’s fingers brushed against his and Alfred let go of the coat to grasp the pirate’s smaller hand. “I did that myself.” He spoke up quietly, “When my father was still the pirate Captain Kirkland.” Alfred lifted his hand and kissed Arthur’s knuckles.

 

“It’s beautiful,” he complimented, “You’ll make a wonderful wife.”

 

“For a carpenter, perhaps,” Arthur chuckled, “I have the Gift, I can fight, and I can embroider. Nothing more.”

 

“You can do so much more,” Alfred argued softly, “You’re fit for a King.”

 

“You, basically,” Arthur laughed, “Has anyone ever told you arrogant you are?”

 

“My Jack did.” Alfred snickered, “Oh, and the Queen of Hearts. No one else has, though. They’re afraid I’ll shoot them full of bullets with my musket.”

 

“Arrogant oaf,” Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, enough of this.” He pulled away from Alfred, and the blonde man pouted at the loss of warmth, as the three candles flickered to life. “Now then, Your Majesty,” he chuckled, standing up and bowing, “Good evening.” He gestured at the door. “Your bedchamber awaits you.” He straightened up, smiling.

 

“I shall take my leave then, my Queen,” Alfred nodded at Arthur. “Good evening.” He stood up, but not without planting yet another kiss on Arthur’s lips. “And just a suggestion, my bedchamber awaits _you_ as well, babe.” He chuckled, winking at Arthur. The blonde pirate flushed, making Alfred’s grin widen, before he stepped out onto the hallway—were Steve was there, waiting for him, Liberty resting on his shoulder. A new letter was tied to her leg.

 

“Hey there, mate.” Steve grinned at Alfred, “I see you didn’t get any love tonight, eh?”

 

“Very funny, O’Malley,” Alfred grinned, tapping his shoulder. Liberty saw this and obeyed her master’s command, flying over to his shoulder and resting there instead. “Got a new letter to Yao?”

 

“Yes,” he nodded, “I’ve let him know Arthur said yes,” at this, Alfred grinned widely, “Of, course, granted you manage to kill the Kraken,” Alfred deflated slightly and Liberty glared at Steve for displeasing her master. The brunette laughed it off, “Aw, grow up. I also told him we’ll be heading for Spades to go after the Kraken. Oh, I fed her already, too.”

 

“Great.” Alfred nodded, and the two men headed back out on to the deck. Alfred lifted his hand to his shoulder and Liberty hopped onto it. “Fly strong and sure, Liberty,” he said to her, and the eagle tipped her head as if she understood. “Stay safe.” He kissed her head and lowered his hand, before swinging it upwards, the bald eagle flying into the night sky.

 

\---

 

It was dawn when Yao awoke to the sound of a beak tapping against his window. He sat up in bed, opening his window to find Liberty standing there expectantly looking up at him. He fished a mouse from a bucket nearby and handed it to her. The eagle ate it eagerly as Yao freed the letter from her leg.

 

Scanning it quickly, a smile crossed his face.

 

“Soon.” He said to himself, “Soon the King will return home.”

 

 


	10. The Nightmare Before Dawn

Arthur couldn’t open his right eye. A spike of fear stuck his heart when he realised he couldn’t see—and worse, his legs wouldn’t part, he could only move them as one, rendering walking to him difficult. Blindly he groped around himself, but he couldn’t grasp onto anything. He began to panic, as he movements began to slow down, like the air around him had turned thick, making his muscles slow and sluggish.

 

“Help,” he gasped, flailing helplessly in the negative space around him, as panic took over his senses. “S-someone!”

 

A hand grasped his and another was at his waist.

 

“Calm down, Arthur,” he heard his brother’s voice in his right ear, “It’s okay, I’m here. I know you’re scared, but please just calm down.”

 

“D-Dean?” he asked, grasping his brother’s hand tightly like a lifeline. “Wh-where am I? What’s going on?”

 

“You’re getting married, silly,” Dean chuckled (was that sadness he heard in his brother’s usually airy tone?) “Now come on, let me get you to the throne room.”

 

_Married? I’m going to marry Alfred?_

 

Arthur beat his wings (a difficult task, since the air around them was thick like water) to help his brother pull him along, his legs rendered useless since he couldn’t part them. He tucked them up close to himself as he used both hands to grip Dean’s hand.

 

The third Kirkland sibling stopped, and so Arthur, the fourth, stopped as well.

 

“We’re standing at the end of the aisle.” Dean told Arthur. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Absolutely nervous,” Arthur replied, anxious to see Alfred soon. He wanted whatever was holding his eye down to let up so he could see.

 

“I thought so,” Dean chuckled, before pulling him along. “Let’s get moving, then.”

 

Arthur heard an organ playing and Dean led him down the aisle.

 

_How strange. Since Father is already dead, it should be Angus leading me down the aisle since he is the eldest sibling. Maybe he didn’t make it?_

“W-where’s Angus?” Arthur asked his brother, “Didn’t he make it?”

 

“He’s a bit… unavailable right now. You know what he’s like with water.”

 

“… Water?”

 

Dean came to a stop, and his brother’s hand left his, before getting replaced by an unfamiliar hand. Arthur froze. This hand wasn’t Alfred’s. It didn’t have the warmth the man hand, and it didn’t have the same calloused texture.

 

Suddenly he could open his right eye, and he gasped.

 

The Sea King, in his proper form underwater (a mighty man with a long beard, fitting for the ruler of the sea), was smiling at him as he held his hand.

 

He turned his head to find Seamus and Angus sitting together in a bubble amongst the crowd of merfolk who came to witness the wedding, the eldest Kirkland seething furiously, his cheeks flushed red as his hair, flames peering out of the corner of his mouth. Seamus was smiling awkwardly, trying to calm his elder brother down. Ironically, he himself was in a bit of an anger-related predicament—he was gripping a horseshoe so hard it was already misshapen.

 

The Sea King turned Arthur’s head. “Look at me only, my dear Arthur, this is _our_ wedding.” he said, his voice no longer garbled, and Arthur realised where he was—in the underwater kingdom of Aquarius, the kingdom of the sea nymphs, ruled by the Sea King. Arthur stared at him, horrified. “My Queen.”

 

“No!” he screamed—

 

\---

 

Arthur sat up in his bed, panting. “It was a dream,” he gasped, as the candle on his bedside table lit up. “J-just a dream… I have to calm down…” Taking a few shuddering breaths, he swung his legs down to the floor, wiggling the toes of his left foot experimentally, to make sure his legs weren’t a tail, like what he had in his dream.

 

Peg leg thudding dully against the wooden floor of his quarters, Arthur walked across his room to reach for the bottle of ale standing on top of this table. He took a swig of it, exhaling heavily as he put it down, and the burn of the alcohol going down his throat soothingly. He threw on his coat and walked across the room to look in a mirror. He grimaced as he stared at his reflection.

 

Eye bags under his right eye, his face paler than usual, he looked terrible. Well, at least, according to him. Should another man see him, he would still be so beautiful. Sighing, Arthur undid the knot of his eye patch behind his head and the black patch fell down to the floor without a sound. Arthur stared at his blinded eye—an ugly scar running diagonally down his closed, slightly sunken eyelid, where underneath it was probably more remains of his eye some drunk old pervert gouged out on his first year as the Captain.

 

Gingerly, Arthur touched his eyelid, wondering how differently would his life have gone if he wasn’t given the gift of unrivalled beauty. Would men find him appalling with this missing eye of his? Would he even have lost his eye?

 

 _Probably will still lose it either way,_ Arthur thought to himself dryly, except maybe what would have changed was how he would have lost it.  Grinning wryly, Arthur turned away from the mirror—

 

And his heart leapt to his throat when suddenly he saw someone standing in the darkness behind him. The blonde pirate scrambled to reach for his Commodore, when familiar chuckling met his ear, and Alfred stepped out of the shadows, arms outstretched as a sign of surrender.

 

“It’s just me,” he laughed, and Arthur relaxed, “I heard you tossing and turning, so I came to see what was wrong.”

 

“Git, were you just sitting outside my door?” Arthur asked, and Alfred grinned apologetically. The blonde pirate bent over and picked up his eye patch on the ground, before tying it back in its place.

 

“Maybe?” he asked, and Arthur rolled his eye, chuckling. The blonde pirate walked up to Alfred and hugged him, the taller blonde’s arms wrapping around him as he stepped into the man’s embrace. “So, what’s wrong, babe? Did you have a nightmare?”

 

“I dreamt I was getting married to the Sea King,” Arthur said into Alfred’s shirt, and the monarch’s eyes widened. “We were in Aquarius, and you weren’t there…”

 

“Have a little bit more faith in me, Arthur,” Alfred chuckled, “I’ll kill the Kraken. Just watch me.”

 

“I’m waiting eagerly for the show,” Arthur smiled up at him; before Alfred leant down to kiss him. “How much further away from Spades are we?”

 

“Not that far,” Alfred replied, “Luke should be seeing land soon—”

 

“Land ahoy!” Luke’s voice bellowed from far above them, and the two blondes looked at each other.

 

“And that’s our cue,” Alfred grinned, “You ready to come home with Spades with me, babe?”

 

“Bring me that dead octopus first,” Arthur smirked, pulling Alfred’s collar so their faces were so close their noses touched. “And then let’s talk.”

 

“In bed?”

 

“Maybe.” Arthur purred, before pulling Alfred in for a kiss.

 

It was better than their first proper kiss as lovers, Alfred thought to himself, as he felt Arthur’s arms snake around the back of his neck, deepening their kiss. Alfred gently prodded Arthur’s bottom lip with his tongue, and the pirate, chuckling, opened his mouth, allowing Alfred access inside. Their tongues rubbed against each other experimentally as Alfred felt Arthur sling his left leg around his, and grinning into the kiss, Alfred ran his hand down Arthur’s clothed thigh, wondering himself how the beautiful porcelain skin would feel underneath his fingers.

 

Very soon their tongues fought for dominance, both men not backing down as their tongues mapped each other’s mouth mentally, as Alfred backed Arthur up against the wall, hand holding up Arthur’s leg, the pirate sensually rubbing it against Alfred’s thigh.

 

They parted for air, the both of them panting.

 

“You’re sexy,” Alfred blurted out, and Arthur flushed, shutting his legs slightly, unknowingly pressing his thigh harder into Alfred’s, earning him a hiss from the taller man. “Shit, _Arthur_ ,” he gasped as he ground his hips against the pirate, pressing Arthur against the wall harder, earning him a small moan from the one-eyed man. “You are _definitely_ marrying me.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of not doing so,” Arthur chuckled, before squirming out of Alfred’s grip, brushing himself off, smoothening down his coat. The blue-eyed monarch looked at him, frowning, before reaching out for him again. Arthur dodged his lunge, stepping aside, a small smirk on his face. “Ah, tut, tut. Patience is a virtue, love.”

 

“Then what the heck was that kiss for?” Alfred half-whined at Arthur, making the blonde pirate laugh lightly.

 

“A good-luck kiss, Alfred,” He cooed softly, caressing Alfred’s face. “For your fight with the Kraken.”

 

“Is the sexy leg-thing part of the good luck kiss?” Alfred grinned, leaning in to kiss Arthur, but the pirate dodged again, and the young monarch pouted.

 

“Maybe,” Arthur coyly grinned, tapping his lips with a gloved finger.

 

“Arthur!” Alfred whined, and the blonde pirate laughed.

 

“I’ll tell you after you kill the Kraken. Now, go out there and win my hand, damn it, or I shall have to win myself for you.”

 

“Wouldn’t _that_ be such a sight?” Alfred smirked, before walking to the door Arthur in tow. “I’ll be expecting another good-luck kiss after I kill that damned octopus, alright?”

 

“You can have all the kisses you want if you defeat it,” Arthur chuckled, “Now, go. I don’t want to be kept waiting for my wedding.”

 

“Yes, my Queen!” Alfred laughed brightly, before the two of them walked out onto the hallway.

 

\---

 

“Al! There you are, mate!” Steve called the monarch as he and Arthur stepped out onto the deck. “Hurry up! We’re in Spades waters, and the Kraken can’t be too far away now!”

 

“Bring it on!” Alfred laughed brightly, running up to the helm, where Steve was, taking his musket off his shoulder as he approached the brunette. “Where did Yao saw it was?”

 

“No idea, but—”

 

“I have a plan,” Arthur suddenly cut in, walking up to the two men standing at the helm, “Give me the helm.”

 

Steve stepped away from the helm, and let his cousin take control of the ship. Arthur turned it—pointing the ship straight at the port.

 

“W-wait, Arthur, what are you doing?” Alfred stuttered, grabbing the blonde’s shoulder. “Y-you’re going to—”

 

“I understood what you said when unfortunate accidents happen when I make port, Steve.” He spoke up, ignoring Alfred. “How could I not, when it’s all my fault?”

 

“What?” Alfred blinked.

 

“Whenever I try to leave the sea, the Sea King will do _anything_ to make me come back. He’ll use the Kraken to take the lives of innocent seamen to force me to come back to the sea.” Arthur explained. “Now more so since I have _you,_ Alfred.”

 

He didn’t have to travel far when suddenly the air was pierced by a shrill cry.

 

“And here it comes,” Arthur smirked at Alfred. “Are you ready for this?”

 

“I’m ready for anything, babe. As long as it’s for you.” Alfred winked at him.


	11. Release the Kraken

Suddenly a large tentacle shot out of the water, and Alfred rushed down to the lower deck, cocking his musket.

 

“Stand aside!” Arthur bellowed at his men, also getting their weapons ready. “This fight is Alfred’s alone!”

 

At his words, the crew moved away from the Kraken as Alfred pulled the trigger, musket pointed down somewhere to the left of the tentacle.

 

The Kraken let out a cry as more tentacles came up—it had been hit—one of the tentacles had a gunshot wound and was freely bleeding.

 

Alfred rushed to reload his musket as Steve ran up to him and thrust a spear’s handle into his hand. “Go for it, mate,” he said to Alfred, taking the musket from the man. “I’ll reload this while you attack.”

 

“G-got it.” He nodded, letting Steve take care of his musket as he aimed—and he threw the spear into the water, cutting through it like a hot knife through butter. “Steve!” he yelled at the brunette, holding out his hand. The brunette nodded, returning the musket to Alfred, and he aimed and fired.

 

The Kraken’s cry was deafening, as its head came out of the water to look at Alfred. One of the tentacles started to come down onto the ship, and Alfred’s eyes widened—when it let out a cry once again. The young monarch turned to see Arthur had driven his Commodore into the Kraken’s tentacle, preventing it from harming the ship.

 

Angered, the Kraken began to sway its tentacles, creating large gusts of wind that rocked the _Britannia_ from side to side. “

 

“Keep her steady, men!” Arthur ordered, and the crew scrambled to tie the sails up securely.

 

Alfred fired his musket again (after hastily reloading it as fast as he could) at the Kraken’s eye, and it hit the mark perfectly. Dark red blood sprayed out of the creature’s eye and its cry, horribly ear-piercing, filled the air, catching the attention of the nearby Spades patrol ships.

 

“Luke!” Steve called out at his brother in the crow’s nest. “Hang on and send that other ship a warning sign!”

 

“Aye!” Luke called down at his brother, grabbing the flag beside his feet, unfurling it, and fastening it to the top of the mast.

 

Below him, Alfred shot at the Kraken again, and the dark red blood spread in the water below it.

 

“You’re getting there!” Arthur encouraged from the upper deck as he nicked and stabbed tentacles coming nearer to the ship, making them pull away.

 

Steve turned to look at his cousin, a small smile on his face—but it disappeared when he saw a tentacle sneaking up behind the blonde captain.

 

“Art! Watch out!” he screamed, his eyes wide, and Arthur froze, alarmed—and suddenly the tentacle sneaking up behind him wrapped around him firmly, making Arthur let go of his Commodore, the blonde letting out a strangled gasp as the air was suddenly squeezed out of him.

 

Alfred heard Steve cry out, and he turned his head to see Arthur suddenly being lifted into the air. “Arthur!” he gasped, pointing his musket at the tentacle, ready to shoot—when suddenly another tentacle slammed into the water, sending a wave of water into the air and onto the ship, wetting Alfred and the rest of the crew. Undaunted, Alfred pulled the trigger—

 

Click.

 

The monarch blinked and stared at his weapon, pulling the trigger again.

 

Click. Click.

 

Alfred’s eyes widened as he came to a realization: the gunpowder got wet, and now the musket was rendered useless. Shocked, Alfred watched as the Kraken dragged Arthur down into the sea, mixed with its deep red blood.

 

Steve grabbed Alfred’s shoulder. “Snap out of that trace right now, Al, mate! Art’s been pulled down! You’ve got to get him out of there!”

 

Alfred snapped out of his trance and he nodded. “R-right!”

 

Quickly, he pulled his shirt off, tossing it aside, before gripping his musket securely with his right hand. He took a deep breath, before jumping down into the sea after Arthur.

 

Steve ran to the edge of the ship, searching for the monarch, but he couldn’t see anything in the dark water.

 

Alfred tried opening his eyes underwater, but immediately he closed them, feeling the sting as the saltwater touched his eyes. Recoiling, he bit his lip, trying not to let air escape, and he swam downwards blindly—and suddenly his gut was hit by one of the Kraken’s tentacles.

 

The wind knocked out of him, Alfred thrashed around, before ramming his musket’s blade into whatever had slammed into him—the Kraken let out a cry and thrashed around as Alfred pushed the musket deeper into the tentacle, holding on tightly as he was thrashed around underwater. With great effort, Alfred turned the musket—a trick he learned from the Queen of Hearts—while embedded into the tentacle, and pulled. The tentacle came off, and Alfred could feel the warm blood diffusing across to him. Blindly, he pulled off the tentacle—when suddenly he was hit by another, and then another.

 

He began to weaken, as he ran out of air, and beaten by unseen tentacles.

 

_Shit…! At this rate…Arthur will…!_

Suddenly a pair of cool hands cupped his cheeks and Alfred couldn’t help but open his eyes. Much to his astonishment, Alfred realized that the salt water didn’t irritate his eyes anymore.

 

Alfred realised that there was someone in front of him.

 

 _Arthur?_ He asked mentally as he kept his mouth shut, staring at the face in front of him.

 

‘Arthur’ raised a (thick) eyebrow at him, before chuckling. Suddenly Alfred realized that ‘Arthur’ looked slightly different… Sandy blonde hair was now a pale yellow, and those familiar green eyes— _eyes_? Alfred blinked. Since when did Arthur have two eyes?

 

“You’re not Arthur,” the young blonde ‘yelled’, shivering slightly at how similar he sounded to the Sea King with the way his voice was garbled underwater. Air bubbled out of his mouth and the young king panicked, flailing slightly, when ‘Arthur’ grabbed his hands, forcing Alfred to calm down. The blonde man blinked at him, before looking down—to realize that the man’s lower half trailed down into a brilliant bottle-green tail, green like his eyes.

 

“You’d better stop moving, else you’d run out of air, love,” a different voice came from ‘Arthur’, letting go of Alfred’s hands to cup his face again, lifting Alfred’s face to look at him. “And my, my. He _certainly_ has a good taste in men.” The blonde chuckled, before leaning in closer to Alfred, before pressing their lips together.

 

Alfred’s eyes widened and he tried to pull away—when he realized ‘Arthur’ was giving him air. He let the merman pass air into his mouth and he felt his strength returning.

 

“I’ve helped you out a bit,” the merman said, “Now, go kill that bloody octopus and bring my brother back to the surface. He’s a forest fairy, for goodness’ sake,” he looked at Alfred, who looked rather desperate. “Oh, alright, the Kraken’s weakness is its underbelly. Come, we don’t have enough time!”

 

He held out his hand and Alfred took it, gripping it securely whilst his other hand clutched onto the strap of his musket. The merman swam powerfully against the current the Kraken was generating with its flailing. Alfred found it difficult to hold onto the merman’s hand, but suddenly he stopped, and Alfred found himself staring at the soft underbelly of the Kraken.

 

“Get a move on, King of Spades!” the merman barked, “We’d all like this over and done with, thank you very much!”

 

Alfred scrambled to hold his musket properly, before jamming it upwards, straight into the creature. He heard the dulled cry of the Kraken above him, as he felt the merman swim up underneath him, before pushing him upwards, driving the musket further into the Kraken.

 

Alfred’s vision was clouded with blood, and he closed his eyes, before blindly, he began to twist the musket, the Kraken above him squirming to get away from him.

 

“A little more!” the merman urged, and Alfred summoned up all his strength for one final thrust—he jabbed the musket further upwards, and the blade pierced straight through the Kraken’s heart.

 

\---

 

Steve’s eyes widened as the Kraken cried out in pain, and he covered his ears as the screeching grew louder and louder. The rest of the crew followed his example, and far above them, Luke hid underneath a flag to try blocking out the noise.

 

“I think he’s done it,” Steve smiled to himself, watching the Kraken thrash around—and suddenly his smile disappeared when he saw one of the tentacles in the air had an unconscious Arthur in it. “S-shit!” he gasped, before rushing towards a cannon one of the crewmen had loaded.

 

“S-Steve!” Luke yelled at his brother from above. “What are you doing?!”

 

Steve didn’t answer, grunting when he adjusted the barrel of the cannon, before striking a dry match he had found against the cannon. The small stick burst into a flame and he tossed it at the fuse. The hissing of the fuse reached his ears amidst the pained cries of the Kraken—

 

Suddenly the cannon shot out its load, hitting its target—the base of the tentacle holding onto Arthur. The appendage fell into the water, creating a large wave that swayed the _Britannia_ violently.

 

Steve bit his lip. Now it was all Alfred’s turn.

 

\---

 

“Alfred!” the merman yelled into the king’s ear, “Let’s get out of here!”

 

Alfred shook his head as he pulled his bloodied musket out of the dying Kraken. “Mmh hmm!” he protested, and the merman stared at him, eyebrow raised.

 

“Wot?”

 

Alfred threw his hands up, exasperated—and suddenly he saw it, Arthur’s unconscious body hitting the water, sinking, not too far from them.

 

Panicked, Alfred swam towards Arthur, but he felt the strength of his body sag as he realized he was running out of air. The merman realized what he was trying to say, and grabbed the king’s arm, swimming to where Arthur was. Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur’s chest and he began to swim upwards—but he faltered, as he suddenly felt weaker: he had run out of air.

 

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” the merman scolded, and Alfred felt the merman hold onto his own torso, before pushing him upwards—

 

And he broke the surface, coughing, gulping in air as he held Arthur tightly against himself, careful to keep the pirate’s head out of the water. After calming down slightly, Alfred looked up at the _Britannia_ and saw Steve waving down at them.

 

“Steve!” Alfred called, and the brunette laughed.

 

“You did it, mate!” he cheered, and Alfred turned to see the Kraken, having fallen silent, sink behind him into the deep sea, dead. A large smile spread across his face and he turned to grin up at Steve.

 

“Yeah!” he grinned brightly, lifting his musket out of the water, cheering, when suddenly Arthur coughed and spluttered on his shoulder. Alfred immediately turned his attention onto the pirate, patting his back, helping Arthur get back air.

 

“A-Alfred…?” Arthur blinked, coming to full consciousness as he looked up at the blonde king holding him against his chest. “I-is it…?” His green eye was filled with worry, and because his eye patch had come off while he was being thrashed around underwater, Alfred could see Arthur’s scarred eyelid, closed over the empty cavity of his left eye. Even with the scar on his face, Alfred still couldn’t help but think how beautiful his wife-to-be was.

 

“It’s dead, babe,” Alfred smiled down at Arthur, kissing the pirate’s forehead. “You’re all mine.”

 

Arthur smiled gently up at him, before resting his head on Alfred’s shoulder. “What a relief.” He sighed, wrapping his arms around Alfred in a warm hug.

 

“Forgetting about me, dear brother?” the merman’s voice suddenly piped up, and Alfred’s eyes widened, and suddenly the cool hands that had cupped his face ran smoothly over his shoulders and caressed them seductively. Arthur quickly lifted his head from Alfred’s shoulders, appalled, as the pale blonde-haired merman hugged him from behind. Alfred could feel the merman’s tail wind around his left leg.

 

“Wh-wh-what?” Alfred flushed bright red as Arthur flushed as well—in annoyance.

 

“Dean!” He scolded, batting at the merman’s arms around Alfred’s neck. “Get your hands off _my_ husband!”

 

Alfred couldn’t help but feel giddy; hearing that from Arthur, but his giddiness was soon replaced with (pleasant?) surprise when Dean ran his tongue up his neck.

 

“Oh, but he’s very handsome,” Dean chuckled, “And you’re not married to him yet.”

 

“He’s my lover!” Arthur yelled at him.

 

“Oh, pish-posh. Can’t you ever share, Artie?” Dean cooed, cupping Alfred’s face in one hand. “I think I’m having a thing for your King as well…”

 

“Dean!” Steve’s voice called from up on the _Britannia_ ’s deck. “You stop teasing Arthur or I’ll have you up here in a fishing net!”

 

“Sod off, Steve!” Dean yelled up at him, letting go of Alfred. The blonde exhaled, before hugging Arthur close to himself again, as the smaller blonde glared out from above Alfred’s shoulder at his brother.

 

Steve laughed, letting down a rope ladder. “Come on, you lot, it’s much warmer up here than there!”

 

Arthur was the first one to climb up, and then Alfred followed suit. As Alfred stepped onto the deck, he looked behind him to find Dean hadn’t followed.

 

“Where’s your brother?” he asked Arthur, who only scowled and crossed his arms as he shook himself, getting rid of excess water in his clothes. He set aside his musket, still bloody and wet, frowning slightly as he pondered on how to clean it up later.

 

Suddenly something jumped out of the water and landed, funnily enough, in Alfred’s arms—it was Dean, smiling seductively up at him, arms latched around the back of Alfred’s neck, tail curled perfectly, glinting a beautiful shade of green in the sunlight.

 

“Right here, darling,” he winked at Alfred, and alarmed, the monarch juggled the merman in his arms, before finally getting into a comfortable carrying position. “My, my,” Dean smiled, running his palm down Alfred’s torso, “Up close, you really _are_ very desirable, _oh,_ this _body_ —”

 

“ _Dean_ ,” Arthur hissed dangerously, before glaring at Alfred. “Drop him.”

 

“Wh-what, I can’t just—” Arthur silenced him with a glare, and gingerly, he lowered his arms—and suddenly in a flash of light, Dean was standing on his own, with his own two legs. He was shirtless, and was wearing simple black pants.

 

“That was rude,” Dean pouted at his younger brother. “Jealous riot?”

 

“Am not,” Arthur scoffed, and Alfred looked at the two brothers, at a loss on what to do. “What are _you_ doing here, anyway?”

 

“ _I_ helped out your pretty little King here,” Dean gestured at Alfred vaguely, “He would have almost died, had I not given him the Kiss of Life,” he winked at Alfred, and the blonde king blushed. Arthur looked enraged. “Whilst you were out there being his sweet little damsel in distress.”

 

“You _kissed_ him?!” Arthur yelled at Alfred, and the king faltered slightly under Arthur’s anger.

 

“W-well, _he_ kissed _me,_ but—”

 

“So you _did_ kiss him!” Arthur yelled, and Steve began to laugh.

 

“Mates, I think we have a more pressing matter to take care of other than whom Al has been snogging,” he snickered, and the three blondes looked at him. “The Kraken’s dead, mates, don’t you think _someone_ will be a _little_ angry?”

 

Arthur’s eyes widened, and suddenly the waves beneath the _Britannia_ began to grow violent.

 

“Mainly,” Steve grinned, slightly uneasily, “The Sea King, perhaps?”


	12. 'Till Death to us Part

Suddenly the clouds grew dark around them, and thunder rumbled.

 

“Secure the sails!” Steve ordered, and a few of the crewmen set to work, climbing up the mast to tie the sails up securely.

 

Suddenly, a column rose up from the sea.

 

“ _How dare you_ ,” the Sea King’s voice thundered from the column of water. “ _How **dare** you challenge me? I will not forgive you for killing the Kraken!_ ”

 

“But a bet’s a bet, right?” Alfred smirked up at the Great Spirit, “I’ve done my part. What about you?”

 

“ _Fools like you should not even—ack!_ ” the Sea King loomed close, only suddenly, a cross of light shimmered across the water column, forcing the Great Spirit back like it had been stabbed. “ _What—what is this outrage?!_ ”

 

“Your Vow,” Arthur spoke up, “Remember? You are to let us all go unharmed, right?” a small smirk made its way to Arthur’s lips, and from where he was, a small smile crossed Dean’s face.

 

_He’s grown up, hasn’t he...?_

The Sea King stayed silent, and had he a body; he would have a troubled expression on his face.

 

“We’ve won, Sea King,” Dean spoke up, catching the Great Spirit’s attention, “Just like what I said,” he smirked, “ _What the sky has to offer, the sea cannot defeat_.” He said, the Ancient Tongue of the spirits rolling off his tongue like his mother language. “I suggest you leave now, or I shall have to return down there to terrorize you.”

 

The Sea King growled at Dean, before reluctantly returning underwater, the skies above them clearing to reveal the sunset.

 

“Well, that’s over and done with,” Dean smiled brightly, clapping his hands, turning to face his brother. “I’ll be heading home to Seamus and Angus now,” he stated, walking across the deck, before standing on the railing. “Take care of our baby brother, King of Spades.” He smirked at Alfred.

 

“D-Dean,” Arthur spoke up, holding his hand out at his brother. He had his head lowered, and Alfred realized that the blonde pirate was blushing. An endearing smile crossed his face, and Dean saw Alfred smile, a surprised look crossed his face, but then Arthur looked up at Dean, and the elder Kirkland’s surprised looked melted to one of fond affection.

 

“Yes, Arthur?”

 

“W-will you,” Arthur stuttered, before looking away, “W-will you, Seamus and Angus come to our wedding?” he asked, as Alfred held his bride’s hand to assure him. “I-I need someone there for me.” He squeezed Alfred’s hand. “Y-you are all my family left.”

 

A blush spread across Dean’s face when he realised he had been smiling affectionately at Arthur. “Y-yeah, whatever,” he quickly replied, turning away to face the sea, hiding his blushing face. “W-we’ll be there,” he shyly peeked at them over his shoulder. “… Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he mumbled, before getting ready to jump. “S-see you.”

 

He jumped, glowing gold, and sea foam appeared around his lower half, and when it cleared, it was his green tail, glimmering in the orange light of the setting sun.

 

He disappeared into the water as silence took over the _Britannia_ ’s deck; the only sounds being heard were gentle lapping of the waves on the ship’s hull.

 

\---

 

“Captain Jackson, we are now approaching the ship,” the captain looked up from the charts on his table, and a smile spread across his lips.

 

“Excellent. Set a plank ready, and do secure it.” He said, “After all, we have precious cargo on that ship.”

 

\---

 

The white-and-blue Spades ship came up next to the _Britannia_ , and soon a plank was set across to the larger ship. Jackson stood at his end of the plank, smiling as the sight of his King came into view, grinning brightly as he stood proud and tall in a simple white shirt and black pants, his musket (now clean and dry) hanging off his shoulder, and at his side was a beautiful young man, missing one eye, yes, but beautiful nonetheless, the beautiful emerald green eye next to its partner hidden behind a velvet black eye patch. The two of them stood together at their end of the plank, the crew of the ship standing behind them, at their head was a messy-haired brunette, a grin on his face mirroring Alfred’s, and a blonde little boy, also with a smile on his face.

 

“My King,” Jackson nodded, bowing, as Alfred waved at him cheerfully.

 

“Jackson!” he smiled brightly, pulling the blonde beside him along by the waist as he walked across the plank. Jackson noted that the beautiful blonde had a peg leg as well. “I’d like you to meet the future Queen of Spades, Arthur Kirkland!” he gestured at the blonde he had with him, and the green-eyed blonde flushed, and flustered, he bowed.

 

“H-hello,” he said, his voice also beautiful. It suited him. “I hope I can be a good Queen to you.”

 

“I’m sure you will be,” Jackson smiled warmly at Arthur, as the blonde straightened up, “If you Alfred has chosen you himself, then I cannot question his choice.”

 

“Oh, you!” Alfred laughed brightly.

 

“Al! Mate! Wait up!” the brunette suddenly called, running across the plank, holding up the King’s Pocket Watch as it glinted in the orange light of the setting sun. Jackson peered over Alfred’s shoulder as he and Arthur turned around. The brunette skidded to a halt, the red coat he had slung over his shoulders scrunching up behind him, and he straightened up. Grinning, he held up the relic and pressed it into Alfred’s hand. “You forgot this.”

 

“Thanks, Steve.” He smiled, holding it close to himself.

 

Steve grinned up at Alfred, before turning to address Arthur. “Be happy with him, okay? Or I’ll come back for you,” he snickered, giving Arthur a kiss on the forehead, before handing him a paper. “Oh, and don’t read this until tomorrow, alright?”

 

“Of course,” Arthur nodded, tucking the letter into his pocket.

 

“Hey, why not let’s have dinner here together?” Alfred asked, looking at Jackson, “I’m sure you guys don’t mind, right?”

 

“Of course not,” Jackson smiled warmly at his King, “It would be wonderful.”

 

“The crew on the _Britannia,_ too.” Alfred smiled brightly. “You all, come on over!”

 

“Sure, mate!” Steve laughed brightly, waving at the crew to come on over. “Let’s make this a night to remember.” He smiled knowingly, but neither Arthur nor Alfred noticed.

 

\---

 

It was a wonderful evening, full of laughter and song, and when Alfred woke up, with Arthur in his arms, sleeping peacefully in the quarters prepared for them, a smile crossed his face as he kissed his bride-to-be on the forehead.

 

Arthur groaned slightly and slowly, he opened his eye.

 

“Good morning, beautiful.” He uttered softly to Arthur, and a smile crossed Arthur’s face.

 

“Good morning, love,” Arthur mumbled, leaning up to kiss Alfred.

 

They shared kisses for a while, gently showering each other with love and affection, when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

 

“Your Majesty,” Jackson’s voice floated in through the door, “The _Britannia_ is gone, sire.”

 

“What?” Alfred blinked, and he and Arthur exchanged blank stares. Quickly, they got out of bed and together they went outside on to the deck to find the _Britannia_ gone. Arthur frowned, and Alfred gaped at the empty space next to the ship, and suddenly Arthur remembered Steve’s letter to him.

 

“Alfred,” Arthur tugged on Alfred’s shirt, catching his husband-to-be’s attention. “Look,”

 

The two looked down at the letter:

 

_Art!_

_If you’re reading this, it means we’ve already upped and skedaddled! It’s wonderful to know you’re finally going to be happy, cus, and me, Luke and the entire crew wish you good luck on being the Queen of Spades! You’ve really done us proud!_

_We had to leave because we might get caught—you made the name Captain Arthur Kirkland the most feared name on the seas, you know—so sorry if we made you mad, or worried, or maybe even both._

_Al, mate, if you’re reading this, good luck getting Art into bed! He’s still a virgin, too! Oh, and a Blessed! I’m sure he’ll bring you lots of joy, in and out of the bedroom… if you know what I mean! Honestly, you’ve rubbed off on me, mate, and I’m happy to say I’m proud of you for finally wooing my old-man-of-a-sea-beauty cousin Artie. Good luck at being King!_

_I’ve made Luke my first mate, since he’s really the one supposed to inherit the name, right? Fat chance I’ll let my little bro take this ship! He’s still too young for these things. I’ll take good care of him, until he’s old enough to take over. When that time comes, you better leave me a room in the castle! I want to live the life!_

_Don’t worry—we’ll be there at your wedding. We’re family too, right?_

_Love you, cus!_

_Ste—_ (this part was crossed out) _Captain Arthur Kirkland_

 

Arthur and Alfred shared a look, and the two of them smiled.

 

“Now, then, babe,” Alfred chuckled, kissing Arthur’s forehead, “Time to worry about what to wear at our wedding, right?”

 

“Yes, dear,” Arthur chuckled. “I can’t wait.”

 

“Me either.” Alfred smiled, kissing Arthur gently. He pulled away, looking into Arthur’s eye. “I can’t wait to say I do.”

 

“Me too.” Arthur softly said, leaning against Alfred as their ship began to travel back to Spades.

 

Alfred smiled in contentment, and stroked Arthur’s hair, as they headed back to his kingdom, to a new life together…

 

Until death do them part. 


End file.
